I'm a Dixon
by RyderAllisonRiggs16
Summary: Darby Dixon is the sixteen-year-old daughter of the famous walker killer, Daryl Dixon. Although she was born a Dixon, she feels as though she doesn't belong with her family. As the group moves on, she learns what it really means to be a Dixon. Rated T for violence and language. Bethyl in later chapters.
1. My humble start

I used to think being a Dixon was one of the worst things in the world. When I was five, my mother left me with my father and my uncle. My dad would always tell me that my mom was out there somewhere thinking about me, whereas my drunken uncle would just tell me that she was probably a stripper known as Candy in some raunchy ass bar. Back then, I didn't know what to believe. I know now that my uncle was more than likely right, and that I should have just kept my mouth shut about her to avoid hearing all the bullshit he would tell me about her. But, no matter what I did or said, I would always end up hearing, seeing, and saying all the things a young girl should probably not hear, see, or say. Let me introduce myself…my name is Darby Dixon, daughter of Daryl Dixon and some stripper known as Candy, also niece of the late Merle Dixon, which is just plain embarrassing if you knew what the guy did before shit went down. I'm sixteen-years-old, and all I'm trying to do is survive. Now that it's the apocalypse, I'm pretty damn glad that I am a Dixon.

Before meeting everyone at the little campsite with Dale's RV, my dad, uncle, and I, just sort of drifted around. We had no place to go; we were pretty much nothing. It was when I met everyone at the campsite that I realized we were pretty much all at the same status. We are _all _nothing. Anyway, we just sort of made our way along, my dad and uncle riding on their motorbikes, and taking out all the dead people that got in the way. I had a lot of time to think, just sitting on the back of the bike while I held onto my uncle for dear life. I thought about a lot of things. My mom, my old school, friends, pretty much everything that was gone. I missed those things then, even though it wasn't that long ago that I had them. Now, nearly four years into the apocalypse, I don't really miss those things at all.

The prison is a "black" place, or so my dad says. He says that about everything that gives off a dark, boring vibe. But, it's probably the nicest place that we've ever been at. It's got gates, a watchtower, cells, a big cafeteria, it's just perfect for our group. It's certainly a lot better than Hershel's farm, don't get me wrong, but it just seemed so scary there. At the farm, there were no gates, watchtowers, or cells. It had a kitchen, but it was defiantly no cafeteria that could fit us all.

"Darby!" my dad yells into my cell. I can tell by the way he yelled it that there was some "urgent" work to be done. Of course, being a part of the Dixon family, I'm actually expected to do more…grown up things. That's another one of the reasons of why I hate my last name. Just because I'm a Dixon, I'm automatically labeled as a badass.

I look up from cleaning off my knife and sigh. "What's going on, dad?"

He steps into my cell, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "You weren't at breakfast," he proclaims. "What've you been doing in here, huh?" I can't help but smile. I'm sure the others would smile too, hearing the rare worry tone that just rang through his voice.

"I've been cleaning my knife. I like it to be shiny." I hold up my knife, presenting the twinkling silver in the light so he can see.

My dad scoffs at that. "It's just gonna get dirty again, girly. I don't see why you like to be shiny."

"Carl told me that it's good to take care of your weapons."

I watch as his blue-grey eyes glaze over. He always gets annoyed whenever I put both, "Carl," and "Weapons," into a sentence. He thinks that Carl doesn't know anything about weapons. I don't blame him, little boys are always stupid with weapons. "If Carl told you it was good to stab yourself in the chest, would you do it?"

"Dad," I bring a hand to my forehead in exasperation, "why the fuck would Carl tell me to stab myself in the chest?"

"Girl," his voice goes dark, "I've told you not to talk like that."

I put my knife in my holster on my belt and stand up, walking towards him. "I won't talk like that anymore, sorry." His faces goes from being angry to tolerant. "So, what're we doing today, pop?" I change the subject as quickly as possible just to avoid a lecture.

He gives a slight smile and grabs the strap of his bow. "We're going hunting."

_**AN: Please review, it'll help me out a ton if I messed up at all. **_


	2. Spoiled mood

Making my way out of the gate, I unclip the holster on my belt and just hold onto my knife by hand. I've always done this, especially after the dream I had when the world first went to shit. It was a typical nightmare that a kid would have, you know, ending up alone, surrounded by walkers, and with no weapon. I wouldn't sleep without my dad by my side for, like, a week after that.

"Gotta be quiet this time, okay?" Dad asks as we enter the wooded area together. Last time we we're almost ambushed by a herd of walkers and I screamed so loud that all of the game we had previously seen had ran off into the deep woods.

I nod as a response, following his rules. As we continued to move through the forest, a sound behind the both of us caught our attention quickly. "Dad," I whisper, stepping closer to him, "I think it's a deer this time."

He raises his eyebrows at the word "deer." Venison is infrequent nowadays, and if we could get some of that, the whole group would fall to their knees with tears in their eyes. It would defiantly be an amazing change from beans. "We bag it and book it, okay?" I know this isn't a question, it's more like a demand. He slowly turns, carefully pulling his crossbow from his shoulder, clearly determined to make this hit.

A nervous feeling begins to build up inside of me. This is a _deer_ we are talking about. It's practically a delicacy. Something we _**pray**_ for. Okay, maybe we don't all pray for it, but it's defiantly a delicacy in this day and age.

"Guys!" A familiar voice yells in the distance. "I wanna help!" I can immediately tell who it is by his compulsion to help. Carl just can't stay out of trouble. He shows himself from behind the bushes and holds up his pistol. "I have this, I can help hunt."

The rustling behind me lets me know that Carl is going to be in trouble. The thing we were waiting for, wanted, and needed was gone. The deer had gotten away and he made sure of that with his futility.

"What the hell!" my dad yells as he twists around. "We had that! We actually fucking had that! Why are you here!? You're supposed to be at the prison with everyone else, boy!" Out of all the times we've been hunting and lost the game, I have never seen him take it out on something other than a walkers head. He's pissed and it's not hard to tell at all.

Carl frowns, putting his gun back into its holster. "I'm…I'm sorry, Daryl," he murmurs as his face flushes with shame. "I just c-came out here to help you guys find some food. I didn't mean to scare it."

This is too weird for me. He doesn't usually just come out and apologize like that. Maybe it's the mood that my father sends off. But usually, whenever he's with his father, it takes him forever to feel bad and apologize. It's been like that ever since his mom died. I used to envy Carl just because of his mother. But now that Lori's gone, I feel like it's the other way around, like he wishes that he never met his mother, just like I never did, to completely avoid the fact that he lost her.

"You didn't _mean_ to scare it?" My dad throws his bow to the ground, just like a small child. "Of course you didn't mean to scare it. You never mean to mess anything up do you?"

I watch as Carl cringes in fear from my overly angry father until I can't take it anymore. "Dad, stop it!"

He turns, sighing as he sees me standing directly behind him. "Fine," he whispers in a reluctant tone. For once I actually get him to stop before causing too much damage. "We're going back. I ain't staying out here any longer." He reaches down and grabs his crossbow, before giving Carl one last dirty look. "You've fucked this day up real good for me," he growls.

I shoot Carl a somewhat sympathetic look before turning and following my dad's footsteps down the path back to the prison. I can't lie, I'm mad at him too, and I really would've let him have it if my dad didn't already. Well, dad was right, Carl fucked this day up without a glitch. As soon as I see the prison tower, I know for a fact there's gonna be a fight between his dad and mine, and it's not going to be good.

"Open the damn gate!" my dad yells up at Glenn and Maggie, who are busy cuddling in the watch tower.

Glenn runs as quick as possible down the stairs of the tower and pulls the gate open for everyone. "Nothing today, eh, Daryl?"

"No shit, fuckwad."

Glenn nervously adjusts his hat before walking back up the tower stairs. I guess Carl isn't the only one who is intimidated by my dad.

My dad practically stomps to the door, still pouting from the loss of our deer. He pushes the door so hard that it slams against the side of the wall.

"Hi, Mr. Dixon," Beth greets sweetly from the other side of the hall, as he rocks Judith in her arms.

"Hi there, Beth," he greets back with a small grin. "How's our girl doing today, hm?"

I blink at the sight in front of me. Is my dad _flirting _with Beth? No, just no. And _our _girl? I don't think so, sir. Try, "Hello, Hershel's youngest daughter, how is Rick's daughter doing today?" Yeah…I like the sound of that one better. But honestly, he goes from gruesome serial killer, to Mr. I'm-such-a-nice-guy. I don't buy any of it.

"She's doing great," she replies, "And, how's Darby doing?" She looks over at me, still wearing that cheesy smile that she always does. Seriously, nobody is always this happy when there's things running around chewing on peoples arteries.

"I'm doing absolutely wonderful, Beth." I beam widely, mocking her everyday smile.

She nods, still wearing the pathetic smile that kills me on the inside. Sometimes I just wanna punch people in the face. I know, I know, I'm not a very nice person sometimes; that's what makes me a Dixon. "Well, I'll be seeing y'all later." She walks away, patting little Judith's back in the process.

My dad looks down at me and ruffles my hair around. "She's a nice girl, don't you think?"

_Oh yeah, she's nice. She's also too young for your liking, daddy-o. _I bit my lip to keep from saying what's on my mind and just nod.

"Why don't we go see what everyone's doing in there, eh?" he continues walking on, whistling a little tune. I stand behind, shaking my head in disbelief as Carl passes me. What the hell just happened? 


	3. Nightmares

In the middle of the night, I suddenly snap awake, nearly hitting my head off the wall. I don't know if this is true, but I'm at least nighty percent sure that I just had the worst dream of my life. It was one of my typical nightmares, the kind where one of my loved ones, usually my father, dies. It was definitely not enjoyable.

I turn my head towards the doorway of my cell, contemplating on whether I should get up and visit my father's cell just to make sure nothing's going on.

Before I can even get up, a faint giggle outside of my cell quickly catches my attention. It was the kind of giggle that could easily send shivers down my spine. I've heard it before, whenever I would watch the younger kids play.

I've made my decision. Instead of going to see what my father is doing, I'm going to see which one of the little shits is up and running around.

"It's just one of the kids," I assure myself, before taking a step out of my cell. I turn my head down each side of the hallway, noticing a light at the end of the block. I walk slowly, careful not to wake anyone up in the process. Whoever it is, they're going to be in _**a lot**_ of trouble for making me get up this late. "Who's out there," I whisper, craning my neck around the corner of the ending hallway.

The mystery child immediately snaps up, flashing the light in my eyes. "It's Lizzie," she admits, putting the flashlight under her chin, making the light shin up onto her face. "I was just…" she trails off, putting her free hand behind her back, "I was just going to the bathroom." She gives a slight smile and nods, as if she's confirming her own statement.

I cross my arms and look down at her, cocking a brow at her guilty presence. "Uh-huh," I nod, "and what's behind your back?"

"Nothing." She takes a step back.

I'm not buying this kid's claim for a minute. She's one of the weird ones, I think. She always used to walk along the chain-link fence that surrounded the prison, and smile at the walker's that would grab the fence, trying to grab a bite, as she got close to them. Once, when I was having a bad day, I took my knife and stabbed one of them in the head from inside the fence in front of her. I never heard the end of that little incident since. Whenever Lizzie brings it up, it's always, "Darby, you killed an innocent walker," or "He wasn't doing anything to you. How would you like it if someone stabbed you in the head?" To sum things up, that walker wasn't innocent, it definitely would have eaten her if it got the opportunity, and I wouldn't like it very much at all if someone stabbed me in the head, because I like being alive.

"What do you have behind your back?" I ask again in a stern manner.

She looks down, biting her lip, as she presents the unidentified object. "This," she murmurs.

I squint my eyes down at the object and put my hand over my mouth, stifling a gasp. "Is…is that blood?" I ask looking down at the sliver blade in her hand.

She gives me smile and nods her head up and down slowly. "I was just playing."

"Jesus Christ, with _what_?" I reach for the knife in her hand, only to have her quickly retract it.

"Rats." She continues smiling, before stepping around me and walking back to her cell with the bloody knife still in her hand.

I feel scared now. I feel like…I can't even move. She was _playing_ with _rats? _She was _playing _with _rats, _while holding onto a knife that does _not_ belong to her. I swallow before walking forward, curious as to where these rats were. I turn down the same hallway that Lizzie had come from, clenching my fists tightly from nerves. I stop in the middle of the hall, noticing the dead end. The only place left to go was _outside_. I turn around, headed back to my own cell. I don't know what Lizzie was doing outside, but whatever she was doing with rats couldn't have been good.

I open the door to my cell and sit down on my bunk. The nightmare I had earlier didn't give me nearly as much fear as Lizzie did in the hallway. Maybe, and I'm hoping, that this was just a nightmare too, and I'm going to wake up soon.


	4. This stays a secret

After hours of not sleeping, I finally decide to get up and do something other than stare at the wall. I don't know why, but seeing Lizzie last night _actually_ scared me. I know, I know, she's a little girl, but seeing her with that bloody knife and hearing her say that she was playing with rats isn't a very welcoming sight.

I walk out of my cell, making my way down towards my father's cell. I need to tell someone about what happened last night, and I know for a fact that if I don't, something bad will definitely happen.

"Hi, Darby," Patrick calls up from the floor, where he's busy piecing together his Legos. "If you're looking for your dad, he's out hunting." He smiles and continues working on his masterpiece.

My dad's out hunting _without_ me? Weird. I give a slight nod and tap my fingers on my leg, thinking of another option. Of course there are other people to talk to, but the question is, who can I talk to that will believe me? There's Maggie, who usually listens whenever I have something to say, but she's probably in the tower with Glenn. Carol isn't an option for me, because she's pretty close to Lizzie and Mika and probably wouldn't believe me. I usually try to stay away from Tyreese and his sister because they don't like me for some reason, along with Bob. Rick is a good option. Although he doesn't lead things anymore, he still knows how to solve problems pretty well.

I walk towards the exit, the closest one to where Rick and Carl feed the pigs. I shield my eyes from the sun, looking around for the two Grimes'. I see Carl in the garden, picking away at the weeds, wearing his old hat. I hate that fucking hat. I don't know why, but I really do. Perhaps it's just because it reminds me of the police. I've always hated seeing police, no matter where I was. Once, when I was really, really little, my Uncle Merle, being the idiot that he was, tried to smuggle meth in one of my dolls, and of course, a "nice" officer showed up. I remember just sitting there, watching from the sidelines, as my uncle paid the cop an amazingly high amount of cash just to stay quiet. Good thing my father never found out about that little incident, because if he did, good ol' Merle would've been dead ages ago. And, let me tell you, if this apocalypse were to never happen, I would probably be in foster care by now, because both, my uncle and dad would more than likely be in prison for some dumb offense.

"Hey, Carl," I say, walking up next to him in the garden. He looks up at me and squints, like I'm the last person that he wanted to see.

"Hi." He stands up, brushing the soil off of his knees. "What's going on?"

I bite my lip and shrug. "Nothing." As soon as I say it, I remember what I came out for. "Um, is your dad around?"

He nods and points over to the pigpen. "Feeding the pigs."

"Thanks," I say, before taking off towards Rick at the speed of light. I notice Rick throw down the bucket of pig feed and cross his arms. Something must really be pissing him off today. He's been real easy to piss off ever since Lori's death. I can't blame him, though. It must be really hard to lose someone like that, even though in my opinion, Lori was a conniving slut. "Mr. Grimes?"

Rick turns towards me and huffs. "What? What's happening _now_?"

I take a step back, unsure of whether I should tell him or not. "I…uh…" I avert my eyes to the ground and gulp.

"Spit it out," he urges.

I take a deep breath and say practically all at once, "I saw something last night. Now, I got up at night and heard one of the kids laughing. So, I got up and checked it out and I saw Lizzie up and she was holding a knife…a knife that had _blood_ on it. I asked her what it was, and she said that she was playing with rats."

He uncrosses his arms and cocks his head. "_What?" _I must've said it too fast, because he looks completely confused. "We have _pigs dying_ and you're worried about seeing Lizzie with a bloody knife? She was probably just going to the bathroom and had the knife with her. I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about. Now, why don't you go and help Carl with the garden?"

My jaw drops open in disbelief. _He doesn't believe me_. Why would she come back from the bathroom with a bloody knife? No, she wouldn't. "But," I spit out, "there's something going on with that girl, she's,"

"Enough," he cuts off, holding his hand out. "Just go help Carl, please, Darby."

I walk away, practically stamping my feet, like a small child. That just wasn't fair. There could actually be a problem here. I mean, come on, I don't wanna wake up with my throat cut, just because some little girl is crazy. I sigh and kneel down, picking a single green weed out of the garden.

"I think you're right," Carl says, kneeling down next to me. "She is a little weird around walkers, you know?"

"You were listening? And, you actually think I'm right?" I blink at the younger boy and shake my head.

He nods, nearly making his hat fall off. "There's something weird about her, definitely. I don't know what it is, but, yeah." He stands up and throws his collected weeds to the side. "Come on," he holds his hand out, "walk and talk with me."

I grab his hand and stand up. I haven't even picked two weeds. It's not long, and we're already in the open yard, where the younger kids are playing. I make eye contact with Lizzie and my lip moves up in disgust as she smiles at me. She knows that she's going to get away with what happened last night.

"So," Carl takes my attention away from the younger girl, "I heard you say something about rats…" he trails off as he watches the younger kids laugh against the fence.

I, too, watch the kids against the fence and turn my head, wondering what the hell they're doing.

"Nick," Lizzie waves at the walkers on the other side of the fence, "Nick, look over here!" Somehow, she managed to get all of the younger kids in on the yelling. It's just sick.

Both, me and Carl, walk up to the kids, pissed off at their actions. "You're naming them!?" Carl asks bitterly.

"One of them has a nametag, so we thought all of them should have names," Mika says up at us with a smile.

I sigh and shake my head. She needs to be separated from her sister for a while, I say. Lizzie is corrupting that girl way too much. It's just not healthy. She should be old enough to know that walkers aren't our friends. The walkers are the reason that we're stuck here in this prison, hiding behind gates and fences. They're the reason that parents, and brothers and sisters are dying. Why doesn't she get that? Before Carl gives her an answer, I walk away from them and head back towards the building. If I can't talk to Carl, I'll just talk to someone else.

When I make it to the cell block, there's no one in sight, no one besides Beth. I groan and run my hands through my hair. Fucking forget about it, I tell myself. I'm not talking to _her_ about Lizzie. I continue walking forward, completely ignoring the fact that she's there, and walk into my cell. If there's no one to listen, then I guess this stays a secret.


	5. This is just a bunch of

I look up from the Lego tower that Patrick and I have built up and smile. It's been a while since I've actually sat down and spent time with Patrick. He's actually not as dorky as he looks. He smiles as he places the last Lego on the top and looks up at me.

"We did it," he says, still smiling. "That was fun. I didn't think you actually liked playing with Legos." His smile fades and he begins coughing _again_. This has happened at _least_ three times in the past ten minutes. And it's not like a normal cough, either. It's a hacking sound that's unsettling to the ears and even to the lungs, even though it's not affecting me at all, it makes them ache. He looks up at me, his face coated with red and his eyes all watery. "Sorry," he mumbles.

I frown and turn my head. "Maybe you should lay down."

He nods and coughs again, trying to stifle it with his hand. "Y-yeah..." he stands and holds onto the wall for support. I get up too, quickly backing out of his cell. "It was fun playing with the Legos," he says, before coughing again.

"Yeah, it was." I smile at him before walking down the cell block. Somewhere else, a little further away, I hear another person coughing like crazy. This has happened for the past couple days. People have just been coughing like…like there's a flu. This all started the day after Carl and I confronted Lizzie about naming the walkers, which was four days ago. The only question I have is, where the hell did all this come from?

I stop at my dad's cell and peek in. Good, he's in there. I walk in, knocking on the cold metal bars, warning him that I'm coming in. He looks at me and frowns. "You don't look so good," he says, standing up and walking towards me.

He said that I don't look so good. Oh no…I can't be sick. I look in the cracked mirror on the wall and gulp. I roll my eyes when I realize what he's talking about. My eyes are dark, which is from staying up for a few days, it has nothing to do with what Patrick's got. I'm not coughing, or having trouble functioning. I'm fine.

"You're not coughing too, are you?" he asks, setting his hands on my shoulders. I shake my head as an answer. "Alright, you're fine then." he sighs and walks over to his bed. "I want you to be careful, alright? Watch out who you're hanging around."

"Okay, dad," I mumble. "What about the book reading with Carol?"

He opens his mouth as if he is going to respond but then closes it. Instead, he nods and sits on his bed. "Yeah, sure. Yeah, you can go to that. Just sit away from the coughing kids."

I nod and walk out of his cell and head down towards the library, where Carol usually reads to all the kids. Maybe it'll be one of those boring books that'll lull me to sleep, so I can actually get a _little _rest. I push open the door to the library and step in. It's quiet. I walk over to the reading area, and sit down on the carpeted area. Carol and I are the only ones in the room. Awkward…

She adjusts something beside her stool and looks down at me. "Hi, Darby." She smiles at me as she sits and opens the book in her lap.

"Hey, Carol," I greet with a wave. I look around and bite my lip. "Nice day, isn't it?"

She looks down at me and purses her lips. "It's raining."

"Oh…" I look down at the carpeted floor and yawn.

I hear the door open behind me and smile. Thank god someone else is coming in here to get rid of the awkwardness that is heavily floating around in this room. _Oh shit, _I think to myself. It's fucking Lizzie and her little grasshopper sister. I scoot over to the side of the carpet, getting out of the middle. Mika takes a seat next to me, and her sister sits next to her. Of course, it's my day to get tortured.

I cross my legs and hold up my head with my hand. I'm too tired for this. Why am I even here? I hear the door open a few more times and then it's time to get started. I hear Carol begin to read and I close my eyes. Then suddenly, her reading stops.

"Luke, can you go take watch?" I hear her ask. I open my eyes and look up at her, holding onto the box that she was adjusting at her side earlier. I watch as the younger boy gets up and walks to the back of the room and stares out the door. I crane my neck to see what's in her box and gasp lightly. Those are _knives_…

Just as I'm about to open my mouth and object to her lesson, Patrick stands up and coughs. He looks worse than before, and sounds worse too. "Ma'am," he begins, still coughing, "I'm not feeling very well. May I be dismissed?"

A sympathetic look takes over Carol's face. "Patrick, just because we don't feel well, doesn't mean the world stops being dangerous. We need to push through."

I cover my ears and shake my head. I don't even want to hear Patrick beg her to leave. What she's doing is ridiculous. I uncover my ears and sigh, noticing that Patrick had left. I look back up at Carol and narrow my eyes.

"Today, we're learning how to use knives," she announces, presenting one. This enough for me. I stand up and head for the door. I'm not letting her get away with this one. "Darby!" she calls after me.

I sharply turn around and throw my arms in the air. "What? You want me to stay so you can screw with my mind too?" her jaw drops in astonishment, as she sets the knife back in the box. "No," I continue, "I'm not gonna sit through this…this shit!" I hear all the younger kids gasp, but I don't care. I'm right; this _is_ a bunch of shit.

"Darby," Carol's almost begging now, "Please, don't tell. It'll ruin me if you do."

I shake my head at her and snort, "You've already ruined yourself." Luke steps in front of the door, trying to stop me from leaving. I cross my arms and stare down at him intently. "Get out of my way," I growl. Without hesitation, he quickly jumps out of the way, letting me through the open doorway.

I march back to my cell, or my "sanctuary," which is practically what it is now, since I'm in the place 24/7. I throw myself onto my bed and close my eyes. This fiasco with Carol isn't gonna go unheard, I swear to it.

* * *

I suddenly open my eyes and blink quickly. How long have I been asleep? I look out the barred window in my cell. It's night-time, or early morning. I've slept obviously slept through dinner. I yawn and stretch my arms over my head.

"Walkers in D!" someone shouts outside. Did I hear that correctly? "Walkers! Walkers in D!" the voice repeats. Shit…


	6. Peaceful

_**AN: Hey guys! I am officially back! Don't worry, I'm not giving up on this story until I finish it completely, no matter how many good or bad reviews I get. I hope you enjoy chapter 6, and don't worry, there's more on the way soon!**_

* * *

I try to not think about what happened last week with the walkers on the block. The graves were dug, people were buried, burnt bodies were found, fights broke out, and… well, so much happened and it's just not worth thinking about.

I watch as my dad tinkers around with a car with Michonne next to him. I haven't seen them talk in a while. Well, I don't think I've seen anybody talk in a while; not with all the fun stuff going on. Hearing my dad call after Michonne, I jump. It's the first time I've jumped in a while. I guess I'm just on high alert.

"I'm glad you're here," my dad says, wiping his hands off on a dirty rag.

Michonne looks at him and blinks. "Where else would I be?"

I stare up at her and sigh. "Running off." My dad nods with my statement.

"You know I ain't runnin' off," she counters. My dad nods and continues his work on the car. "So it's just gonna be and you like in the old days?" Michonne continues.

"Yeah," dad says focusing on his tools, "but it still feels like we could use another person."

Are you kidding me? I look up at him and raise my eyebrows questionably. "What about me?" I manage to pipe up. "I'm as good as anyone else here. Hell, I'm even better. Everyone else is sick."

Moving his hair out of his face, dad huffs. "You can stay here with Carl and the little Asskicker."

I try my best not to slap myself in the face. _Carl, _the kid that just shows up in places where he isn't wanted, and _Asskicker_, who… who's an asskicker. Of course I don't want to stay with them.

"Plenty of stuff you can do here anyway, Darby," Michonne says with a wink.

I stare at the two of them, shocked by their answers. "I'm not a baby, you know," I look at my dad and then at Michonne, "I'm almost seventeen. I think that's, like, practically being an adult."

Dad shakes his head. "No means no. Don't go disrespecting me either, or else."

"Well, fine." I stand up and brush my pants off before stomping away.

It's just not fair how things are run around here, I'd say. Hell, if I was a boy I'm sure my dad would say "Yes, son, you sure can go out and play dentist with that walker! And, don't you come back without some wisdom teeth!" I seriously think that I'm adopted, because there is no way that I came from that man.

I see Carl walk down one of the halls as I venture through the no-mans-land area of the prison. I don't know, but something tells me that he's up to something no good. As soon as he rounds the corner, I try to stay as light on my feet as I possibly can and peek around the corner.

"Where you going?" he calls out.

At first, I think he's calling after me, and I step out from behind the wall. Before I open my mouth, I see Hershel standing on the opposite end of the hall staring back at the both of us.

"I'm down here away from y'all, because you kids are supposed to stay away from me," Hershel replies, waving a finger at the both of us.

Carl turns and looks me up and down as if I'm a new person here at the prison. He rolls his eyes and directs his attention back to Hershel. "I've been walking the halls," he announces, walking towards Hershel. "My dad told me to look out for everyone."

I walk forward along with Carl, not really knowing what else to do. "Are you sure he told you to do that?" As Carl turns to snap me a dirty look, I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

"You should both keep your distance." Hershel waves his hand at the both of us, motioning for us to go back from once we came.

I look at him and then at the door he is standing near. _The exit. _"Hershel, that's the exit."

He nods. "I, uh, need to go out there."

"To the cell blocks?" I can tell by the stare he gives, that that's not the place he wants to go. "Or is it the woods?"

Hershel nods once again. "Yes."

I can hear Carl huff behind me. "So you're sneaking out?"

"Now, I don't need anyone worrying about me, and I damn sure don't need someone telling me I can't go," the old man counters, gripping his cane tightly.

Carl looks at me and then back at Hershel. "I can't just let you go into the woods by yourself."

The old man cocks his head as if surprised. "Let me?"

I know where this is going. I really can't believe him. He just expects everyone to let him do whatever he wants to. "I can't stop you," he looks at Hershel once again with his eyes wide. "But, I have to tell my dad." The little fucker.

Hershel shrugs and waves his arm. "Well go ahead then, I'll be out there by the time you find him." He goes back to walking towards the exit, practically ignoring the fact that both me and Carl are standing in the same hallway.

Carl just can't take no for an answer. He looks at me and moves his head in the direction that Hershel walks, inviting me to join his little escapade. "Hershel, if you have to go... then I have to come with you."

"Carl-"

"I have to," the stubborn boy insists.

Hershel looks at me and smacks his lips together. "I'm guessing you have to go too, miss?"

I look at the two men in front of me. It's a simple yes or no. Yes, and I go out venturing into the woods with a lunatic and a sick old man. Or, no, and I run as fast as I can to go and tell Rick that his son is pretty much blackmailing Hershel. Then, I break under the pressure. I'm going.

"Alright then," Hershel nods and again walks to the exit. "You best not tell your daddy either, miss. I imagine he wouldn't like it very much if his daughter were to go out into the woods without him."

"I imagine you're right," I deadpan. Am I supposed to be afraid of the consequences that my father will bring if I disobey him _once? _No.

The trip out to the woods is silent and awkward. It's worse than riding in the car and having to sit next to Beth. But, I can admit that it was amazing to see only two walkers in the woods at this time a day. We didn't even have to worry about an ambush.

Carl scans the scene, gun in hand, as Hershel gets on his hands and knees looking around the plants.

"You're dad give you back your gun?" I ask, patrolling the scene with him.

He nods. "Yesterday. After it all happened." He glances at me quick, and then back at the trees. "Too bad you don't have one, huh?"

I narrow my eyes and look at him, trying to shield my eyes from the sun. "Dixon's don't need guns," I counter. This is exactly why I don't like teenage boys in the apocalypse. They brag, and get themselves into trouble until their daddy's come along and help get them out. I don't know, maybe that's just Carl.

Carl smiles at my remark. "You say that until you break your knife or lose it. At least I've got some responsibility; something to keep track of."

"And you're saying I don't?"

He shakes his head like a dog. "You're a Dixon so I'm sure you have tons. You know, like keeping track of how many cigarettes your dad smokes, or how many walkers he kills with his bow."

I roll my eyes and leave him standing alone by the trees. "How're doing Hershel?"

The old man stands up, sticking plants into a sack. "I would've been fine on my own. It's peaceful out here. These last couple of days… might be safer outside those walls than in."

"No we're not," Carl says, stepping forward between me and Hershel, pointing his gun forward.

Looking ahead, I notice a tent that looks as though it's been sitting there for a while. There's no way that anyone would be there now.

We all step forward, Carl in the lead, anticipating about what might be inside the mysterious tent. The heavy breathing of a moss covered walker immediately catches our attention, but other than that there's nothing.

The crippled walker looks up from his spot under an old elm and locks its yellow eyes with our presence. My lip curls up in disgust as it growls at us. It reaches out to us, needing to get a taste of our flesh.

Just as I thought that the crippled walker was the only one, the growling of another one came near us. I could see it trudging through the wilderness, staring around for anything that might be edible to it. Carl aimed the barrel of his gun straight for it.

"Don't," Hershel urged. "You don't need to." Carl obeys and walks back towards me and the old man. "It's so peaceful."

Carl and I share the same look on our faces. "It was," I whisper, walking away and leaving the old man to stare at the revolting creature. I can still hear the sounds the growling creature and I shake my head. Yeah, pretty peaceful alright.


	7. The monsters

A monster; an imaginary creature that is typically ugly and frightening. That's what dictionary in the library says anyway. Do I believe that definition? Sure, especially if you add, "a creature that walks the earth, preying on humans and wiping out mankind. I know there's more than one definition for that word today. The first one clearly represented the walkers. But the second, the one that I truly believe in today, represents the survivors of this apocalypse. Right now, we see ourselves staring into the face of a monster… and he's staring back with the rest of them.

* * *

Three days earlier:

My dad looks down at me and glares. We've been fighting nearly every day for a week. It's definitely something I'm not used to.

"You're just a child, Darby. You don't know what'd be good for this group!" His voice is rough and filled with bitterness.

I roll my eyes. "First of all, if you would just _listen _to me, maybe you would understand why I'm concerned with the way things are being run around here. If it's not the walkers taking us out, it's a goddamn sickness! If something doesn't happen now, everyone who has it is going to die!" I can tell by the way he exhales that I've pissed him off even more.

"No. If _you _listened to _me, _girl, we wouldn't be fighting. I said, we've got things under control here. Y'all kids are quarantined, aren't you? What else do you expect us to do about the shit that's going on? Actually, you know what, this is done. Don't question anyone else about this matter." He turns and heads for the door, basically giving up on my concerns.

I don't even know what to think. He never listens. Without thinking, I say the first thing that comes to mind, "I wish Uncle Merle was my father. He was more understanding…"

Then everything stops. It's almost like the world gets set on pause. My dad turns slowly, appearing to be in shock. "W-what… what did you say?"

I avert my eyes to the floor. I know what I said; he knows what I said too. Instead of giving a legitimate answer I shake my head as if I didn't know what I did.

My dad steps closer, wearing a frown instead of his usual glower. "You know what you said… did someone tell you that I wasn't your father? Because if they did they're sure as hell lyin'."

I turn my head, confused about his questioning. I expected instant yelling and maybe even a little beating… actually, that last one doesn't sound like him. But still… his reaction was strange. "I didn't mean it like that…"

"Uh, yeah… I know. But, yeah, don't you ever, and I mean ever, say that again. If you do I'll beat you all to hell." Just as he finished speaking, my dad darted out of the room and off to god knows where.

* * *

Present:

As I see the monster bring the sword down onto Hershel's neck and separate the old man's head from his shoulders, my stomach immediately drops. I hear Beth and Maggie yell out and then I hear the guns. I know now that it's done. There is no more life here at the prison. It's been ruined.

My grip on my rifle gets wobbly. I can't tell who to shoot. Then something comes to mind; _it's us or them_. I immediately lift my gun, aiming it at the first son-of-a-bitch from Woodbury that I see. It's a tall man with dark hair, holding onto a gun that looks way too big for him. I squeeze the trigger and watch him drop. I'm almost certain that he's dead until he lifts his head. Feeling no mercy, I make my way to where he's attempting to reach for his gun. For a brief minute, I look down and raise my foot above his head. I watch as he looks up at me, and I can tell by the look in his eyes, he's in pain. Good. I bring my foot down onto his head and immediately aim my gun down at him and shoot.

Something suddenly bumps into me, nearly knocking me over. I can't see for a second, like I've gone blind. When reality jumps back in, I see suddenly see the figure that bumped into me. It's a girl; no more than twenty-five. I raise my gun, and notice as she cowers instead of raising hers.

As I see a walker in my peripheral vision, I forget about the girl that I was holding gun point and shoot the close-by walker. I can't tell if I hit it, so I just start running through the chaos. When I try to find at least one person from my group, I feel someone yank me backwards by my hair. I can't feel the pain, the adrenaline is too intense. When I see the man who pulled my hair wield a knife I try to writhe myself free from his strong grip, only making him angrier. Just I think it's all over, someone comes to my rescue. With the sound of an automatic, the man falls behind me.

I see the petite blonde standing, dirty from the flying dust and blood from the Woodbury folk. She waves forward and runs. I have no choice but to run after her. If she's running towards someone, it would either be my father or Maggie, and I'll take the chance of it being my father.

I'm especially worried about my father since I haven't spoken to him since the day I told him that I'd much rather have Merle as a father. If this is my last day, I'm not going to have him think that I don't love him as my father.

I don't shoot anybody, but instead keep my focus on Beth running in front of me. I hear the sound of the tank, that the monsters brought, destroy the prison.

"Beth!" I yell out after her. She looks back briefly, then continues running.

"Hurry up," I hear her screech back.

I have no idea where she's leading me, but wherever it is better lead me to father.


	8. Bloody knuckles

_**AN: Oh, don't you worry DarylDixon'sLover. Darby will apologize to her dad as soon as she seems him again, I swear on my life! And don't worry guys, there's no way Daryl's gonna die in this story!**_

It's over. Everything is all over. The prison… our safety… our group… all of it. And to think this could've been solved by just splitting the prison in half. But no; the Governor had to be stubborn. He didn't deserve it, even if we came to terms and let him stay with us. He had a place, but he lost it. Hopefully he lost his life back there…

I don't know how long it's been since we got to the field. I can feel an aching sensation all over my body from the intense battle at the prison. I look over through the long grass and see Beth staring up at the sky, clearly affected by the horrendous execution of her father.

"Do you think he's dead," I ask, curious about the fate of the man who ruined our home.

Beth looks over at me, expressionless. "I don't know."

I reach over and grab her hand. I know, I know, I don't usually feel bad whenever something happens to Beth but in this case I think I can exempt my hatred for her. She immediately pulls her hands away and gasps.

"Your hand," she points, "your hand is bleeding!"

I sit up and look at my knuckles, covered in the sticky crimson substance. Then I can feel it. It hits me all at once, like a freight train going faster than the speed of light, my knuckles throb as I make a fist. I investigate the bloody mess closer, making sure it's just a cut and not a bite. I unravel my fingers and look at each of them. I can feel every digit, but mostly my ring and pinky finger. A clean slice straight down the center of my ring finger, on the front side of my hand, more gruesome than words could even describe, caught my attention immediately. I don't know if it's bone I'm seeing, or whatever the hell it is that's supposed to be in there, but I know it would require stiches in old world. My pinky looks even worse than my ring finger. It's obviously broken, in fact, it looks like if I bent it back anymore it would just break off like a carrot. Just like my ring finger, my pinky is also cut open and I can see the bloody inside of it.

I look at Beth, who is focusing on both of my messed up fingers while tears stream down her cheeks. "What are you supposed to do with your hand like that? You won't be able to shoot a gun!" she covers her eyes with her hands and shakes her head, acting like everything is a dream and shaking herself will wake herself up.

I wish this was a dream myself. The sudden pain of my finger is so immense that I just want to scream, but I know I can't. "It's okay," I manage to say, gritting my teeth in the process. "I'm ambidextrous. My right hand might be out but my I have all my fingers on my left hand."

"Well, what're you gonna do with those?" she asks, staring back down at my two unusable fingers. "You're not gonna die, are you?"

"Jesus, that's a shitty thing to say," I huff. "I'm not gonna die from my fingers. I could very much die of infection if I don't do something about them."

"So… are you gonna, like, wrap them up?"

I take a deep breath and pull on the sleeve of my flannel shirt, attempting to pull off the fabric. "Hey," I hold out my sleeve in front of Beth, "pull that off, please." Beth grabs hold of the sleeve and rips it just as I told her to. "Okay, hold onto it for a second." I reach down into my knife holster and pull out the "new" SOG that Carol gave me even though I didn't want it. My forehead sweats as I keep thinking about the crazy idea that's been floating around my mind.

"What're you doing?" Beth looks up at me after seeing the dark blade of my knife.

I bit my lip and swallow hard. "You're gonna have to listen closely, okay?" She nods. "Alright. I'm gonna cut off my finger. You're gonna stand here and make sure that there's nothing coming, be it human or walker, got it?"

The blonde looks at me as if I'm a walker myself. "You're insane. There's no way you'll be able to do that without screaming; and I mean, like, screaming _screaming. _It's self-mutilation, there's no way you're gonna go through with it."

"Shut up," I growl. "You're gonna take watch, or else. If you don't… we die a very painful and vicious death of being ripped apart by walkers, then, we become walkers ourselves and then my dad and Maggie come along with the rest of the survivors and see us walking around dead and trying to eat them!"

"Alright," she gets up on her feet, "I'll keep watch…bitch"

I take my old pinstriped baseball cap off and stick it in my mouth to muffle my screaming. I know already, this isn't gonna be fun in anyway shape or form. I hold my knife tightly in my left hand, unsure of how I'm supposed self-amputate my fingers. Do I hack? Do I just chop? Shit… I don't know.

I hold my fingers straight across my leg. I'm cutting both off, no matter how bad it hurts, I've gotta cut them both off. _Prepare for the worst, _I warn myself before setting the knife down onto the bruised and torn skin on my crippled fingers. Just the feel of the cold blade on my bruised skin is painful. With one more deep breath, I send the knife into my fingers. My teeth gritted against the worn, old cloth of my cap as I try my best not to scream. Beads of sweat begins to pour down my face as the blade grinds through the skin and bone like scissors through paper.

Beth looks down at me, gritting her own teeth as well. "Darby, I think you're almost done."

With a sudden pop-like sound, the knife hits the denim of my jeans. I look down, dizzy and a little confused. The blood was unbelievable. Maybe it was the way the denim just soaked it up… either way, it was bad.

"You cut your own fingers off… and you didn't even pass out…" the blonde murmurs. "Are you even human!?"

I place my finger to my lips and shush her. "Don't… yell, please." I look up at her and point at the ripped flannel in her hand. "Give."

Beth shakes her head. "There is no way you're wrapping it yourself. You can barely even talk. Here," she holds the fabric out flat, "let me do it."

I hold up my hand and let her wrap it the best that she can. I feel like closing my eyes and going to sleep, but I know that there's no way I can go to sleep in the middle of this field.

"You," Beth's voice fades out, "okay, Darby? Do you want me to," out again, "hey, stay awake, Darby. Don't fall asleep on," and just like that things begin to go dark.


	9. Dead

I'm dead. Maybe I'm not dead for real, but I surely _feel _dead. After thinking about everything that happened, from the time at Dale's camper, the CDC, to Hershel's farm, Woodbury, and the prison, I realize now that I've been nothing but unappreciative and disrespectful to everyone around me. Now that everything and everyone is gone, I know I can't take it back… and I have major regrets.

"Does it still hurt?" Beth asks, looking down at the bloodstained cloth covering up what used to be my fingers.

I nod instead of talking. Ever since I chopped the damned things off, it's like my voice left with them. But the feeling is almost unreal, like something that I've never experienced in my life. It's almost like my whole hand is on fire.

"Still can't talk, huh?" Beth gives me a sympathetic look as she walks slowly beside me. "It's alright, I'm not up for talking much myself."

I say the first thing that comes to my mind. "I'm sorry about Hershel." My voice is higher pitched than hers right now, no doubt from the pain I've been holding back. As soon as I woke up, I decided that there was no reason to dislike Beth anymore. She's been through more shit in a day than I have in my whole lifetime. Unlike me, she's lost both of her parents, and who knows where Maggie is? There definitely isn't a reason to hate someone who has been through so much, but is still as nice as pie.

Beth presses her lips together hard and nods. "Thanks," she whispers. "Can I be honest with you, Darby?"

"Sure."

She stops, grabbing onto my arm so I don't go any further without her. "Don't get mad, but I really didn't think that you liked me enough to feel any pity for me." She looks down, unable to make eye-contact.

I look at her for a while, trying to understand why I would be mad about her honesty. She hit the nail right on the head. I certainly didn't like her enough to have any pity for her before, but now it's different. "That's not true. And, let's forget about our impressions of each other from when we were at the prison. Our lives depend on each other. If I came out here alone, I'm sure I would've died right when I cut off my fingers. I can't make it without you, Beth. Does that sound like hatred?"

"I guess not…" she whispers, still looking down at the ground. "What about your dad? Did you ever talk to him again after the whole "not wanting to be his daughter anymore" thing?"

My eyelid twitches and my heart begins to throb. _How does she know? _I'm too afraid to even think about my father. If he's alive, which I pray for, or if he's dead… I don't know. I simply shrug and latch onto my arm with the butchered hand. "I haven't talked to him since then. Don't even think that I don't regret saying that shit either, because it's been eating me ever since I woke up."

"Hey now, don't let it eat you up. Your dad knows you didn't mean it; he told me himself." The blonde places a hand on my shoulder and gives me the same sympathetic look with her big blue eyes.

"No, I know he knows that. It's just the fact that I never told him that I was sorry. And, with the prison gone, we're all apart. Who's to say that my dad's still even alive out there?"

As soon as she registers what I've said, her expression goes serious. "Don't say that," she's close to yelling. "I'm serious. Don't ever say that. I… _we_ love your father. We both know that he, of all of us, could make it through anything. I mean, look at us! We made it!"

"In pieces," I mumble, holding up my mutilated hand.

Beth laughs and shakes her head. "We… we should just get out of here. I don't really feel like sleeping outside tonight. There's gotta be someplace near here"

"Agreed."

* * *

We were wrong. We were _dead _wrong. Apparently, wishing for a place close to us was too much to ask for. Last night, as soon as the sky got to be that pretty orangish-yellow color, we finally came to finding a road by the tracks. Another _great _thing that happened was seeing the bus… the overturned bus and the shoe. The small shoe that looked exactly like something that Luke or Mika would wear. Both, me and Beth, had mutual feelings towards the sight. Overall, it was a night full of silent walking, an optimistic blonde and a hotheaded brunette blatting over a shoe, and more silent walking. I can't wait for the day we have ahead of us today…

Beth walks beside me, humming an old country tune, trying to make the best of our situation. She holds onto her knife for dear life, just in case we come across any stray walkers on the lonely road we're on.

I look down at the tracks below me and sigh_. It's officially been twenty-four hours since either of us has slept. You've gotta do something about this, Darby. _I've repeated that same line in my head for over an hour now. The only thing is, I can't do anything to help either of us. For once, I'm the weak one.

"Darby!" Beth stops in a sudden halt all at once. Boy, I wish she wouldn't do that. "Look!" she points out in front of us, clearly excited about whatever it is that we're seeing.

My brows knit together, seeing a bright white sign with big black letters painted on it. I look over at Beth and blink. "What do you think it is?"

She shakes her head. "Check it out?"

"Check it out," I confirm.

As soon as we reach the sign my heart drops.

Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive.

"Terminus," Beth reads softly. "We have to go," she looks at me, grinning widely, and nudges me with her elbow, "Maggie could be there! Your dad could be there too!" As soon as she sees my face, her smile fades. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I focus my attention on the sign. So welcoming… so friendly… so… fake. "We can't go," I say, shaking my head.

"Why not?"

I narrow my eyes, looking at the sign and then over at Beth. "You're kidding me, right? You don't think this is real do you? I mean, look at it! It's too perfect! A place for everyone to just go, live, and survive together. There's gotta be some kinda catch. There's no way people would set this up and not expect something from us."

She looks up at the sign, moving her fingers down the plastic wrapped edges. "We just have to see. Come on, Darby. You never know, it could be real!"

"How far?" I ask, waiting for her to determine how far away it is. At a time like this, I can only wish that I was good at reading maps.

She moves her finger up the traced line on the map and purses her lips. "Damned if I know. I say we follow the tracks. If we come up on something, we'll stay there, but Terminus is our final place."

For some reason, something is telling me that we have to go. Then again, there's also something telling me that there's gonna be something bad there. I look over at the girl next to me. She's determined, determined to find her family. I get that. I finally make up my mind and tell her we're going to Terminus.

* * *

_**AN: Hey guys! I know what y'all are probably thinking... I'm crazy for sending them to Terminus so fast, and what about the golf course and the moonshine and the creepy funeral home? Just wait, It'll all come in time...**_

_**Cheers, **_

_**Ryder **_


	10. No

I don't know how long it's been since I've actually been talked into something. Well, until now that is. I've been talked into going into a place where our fates are unknown. I've should've said no.

I decide to keep my little secret from Beth. I know she is scared, she's told me about six times today, but she doesn't think the same for me. She's like the rest of them. She thinks that just because my father is a fearless badass that I must be one too. Boy, is she wrong.

"What do you think Terminus is gonna be like when we get there?" she asks, clearly excited about going to meet the mysterious "saviors" that reside there.

_Terrible! It'll_ _be absolutely terrible!_ _Death everywhere! Blood will rain from the sky and we'll all die in under a minute! _

I shrug instead of telling her what I think. "I think that if we go there and reunite with everyone it'll be great. If they aren't there and it's still safe, great. I'm sure they'll see the signs and they'll think it's a good idea too. In the end, I'm sure we'll all end up together."

"You don't think that." Beth stops for a quick break, leaning against an old junky car that was left behind. "You think that it's gonna be just a ploy to get us all into one place, then they'll kill us and take all our stuff."

I blink, thinking about the accurate guess she bestowed upon me all at once. "No, I just told you what I think. I'm always honest. _You're _the one that's not honest here."

Beth huffs, moving a strand of blonde hair away from her face. "I'm honest. Is there something that you think I'm not so honest about?"

"Maybe," I say, sitting on the trunk of the car.

Her eyes stare into mine, determined to get me to fess up to what I think. "Well," she urges, "spit it out then."

I open my mouth, ready to question her about her relationship with my father. Then I see them coming. A whole herd of them, stumbling, and growling, and reaching out for us. I immediately jump off the truck of the car and look around for a place to just run to, but it's all woods and road. And, who knows what's out there in the darkness.

I pat the trunk frantically, looking for handle to open it. "In here," I say, popping the junker open.

"_What?_" Beth looks at me like I'm insane and begins to pull at her holster for her knife. Without any objection, I put my hand on her shoulder and forcefully shove her into the trunk. "Ugh, Darby! What the hell! We can take them out together!"

I roll my eyes and jump into the trunk with her. "Well, you'll thank me later when we ain't dead."

I close the trunk enough just for us to see a sliver of the outside world. A walker passes by, and then another joins it. They're growling, clearly hungry for some organs. I hold onto the door tightly to make sure that none of them can get in. I'm a little scared that I might be too weak for this.

"Are you shaking?" Beth asks in a quiet whisper. She latches onto my forearm, seeing for herself. "Jesus," she says, retracting her hand, "you're either really scared, or have a ton of energy right now. Which is it?"

I look over at her, but I can barely see her face in the darkness. "I have ADHD. So, I'll just let you answer that question on your own." The trunk jerks up in response to the walkers passing by and reaching out, trying to get inside the car to get us. "Help me, Beth!" Together, we yank down the door, more than likely pissing off a few of our passing friends.

"How long do we have to stay in here?" she questions.

I take a deep breath, trying to forget about the pain ringing through my fingers from holding on too tight to the trunk. "Half an hour?"

* * *

"Darby!" Beth's shrill voice awakens me from my slumber that I don't remember going under. "Get up… please, don't be dead."

"I ain't dead," I groan, keeping my eyes away from the light flooding into the trunk. "What's going on? Are they gone?"

Beth nods, lifting up the trunk. "They've been gone for a while now, I think. You fell asleep on me."

I stretch my arms above my head, trying to relieve the pain that I gained from the night in the trunk. I almost forgot what sleeping felt like. I mean, sleeping in a crowded truck isn't fun or comfortable in any way but I got some sleep at least.

"Where do we go now?" Beth asks, looking around at our surroundings.

"Let's just get away from here," I say, walking away from the old junker.

"Wait!" Beth stays next to the old car and runs her hand along the side. "We can take this stuff, can't we? The glass and hubcaps, I mean, like for an alarm. Maybe we can build a camp somewhere and just rest for today."

I bit my lower lip and think. One day of rest couldn't hurt. Maybe we could just rest until night time, and then keep going along the tracks. Or, we could just rest all day and continue our journey tomorrow. Yes, this girl has a plan.

"Alright. But if you get cut or hurt taking this damned thing apart, there ain't no crying allowed." I head back towards the junker and crack my knuckles, ready to take the old thing apart.

* * *

I stare down at the old hisser, as my uncle used to call them, and grip the stick and knife tightly in my hands. It's just between me and the snake. This one creature relies on me to kill it, skin it, cook it, and eat it... and let Beth have some, of course. _This is the greatest moment in my life. _

In a quick flash, I bring down the stick, causing the old hisser to panic and fling itself around. As soon as I can, I bring down my knife into the ugly creatures head. Then it goes insubstantial. I smile and pick the defeated hisser up and start heading back towards the camp that I left Beth to set up.

"Beth," I call out, slinging the snake over my shoulder, "I found some food."

I see her finish tying the string to our alarm on the last tree. "Cool, let's eat it."

"Gotta cook it first."

I slap the snake down on the ground and unhook my knife from my holster. I proceed to skin the creature, rushing as fast as I can, so we can eat our dinner. As soon as its skin is off, I lay it across the fire and stare at it while it cooks.

Beth takes a seat next to me, after pacing back and forth for five minutes, and stares into the fire as well. "Is it done yet?"

"Depends… how do you like your snake?"

Her face puckers into a disgusted stare as she gazes into the flames. "If it's like steak, then I like it medium well. How do you like it?"

I lift the somewhat cooked snake out of the fire and study its charcoaled skin. In all honesty, I've never eaten snake before, and I'm sure that Beth hasn't either. But, I can say that the snake has cooked long enough.

I pull the snake out of the fire, careful not to tear it in half, and pull out my knife. "I like it the same way as you," I answer while cutting the snake equally in half. "You want this half," I ask, pointing at the front half, "or this half?"

Beth reluctantly points at the bottom half and makes eye contact with me. Right now, her eyes almost look threatening. It's like she's about to take her half of the snake and strangle me with it. "We aren't gonna die from eating this, are we?"

As soon as I tell her no, she takes a big bite out of the snake and immediately chews it and swallows it down.

"I want a drink," she states, setting her piece of snake down.

I look around for the bottle of water we have and toss it to her. "That's all we've got left," I inform.

Instead of catching the drink, she lets the bottle fall to the dirt covered ground. "No, I want a _real _drink. Like, alcohol." She stares at me as I swallow down my snake in a greedy manor. "I've never had one, because of my dad," she continues ranting on about her wants.

"No." I shake my head at her ignorant request and pick a stray piece of snake meat out of my teeth.

Beth stares at me again, but looking even more angry than when I thought she was gonna choke me with her half of the snake. Her lip trembles, and her hands shake. Just as I think she is gonna explode, Beth stands up and stomps away in protest.

I watch as the blonde disappears through the trees as she throws her little fit. I sigh and throw the bones of my snake to the ground. I know I can't let her go out there by herself. Instead of letting her die out in the wilderness on her own, I crawl under the hubcap alarm and slowly follow behind her. For being a little girl she sure makes a shit ton of noise…

I stay in place behind a big oak tree and watch as a couple of walkers make its way towards Beth. The blonde quickly retracts behind a tree herself, clearly noticing the dead making their way towards her. The only thing I can say is, that girl is pretty damn lucky to have me here.

As soon as I hear her shriek, I take my knife out and walk forward, behind the first walker. With one plunge, my knife sinks into the first walkers' brain with ease. I wrench it out, splashing the rank, rust colored blood onto my flannel and my face. I look at the next walker, which is unbelievably close. I send my foot into its kneecap, causing it to collapse to the ground. I could be a badass and smash its head with my shoe, but I'll keep it classy with my knife. As soon as I send the knife into its skull, Beth steps out from behind the tree.

"Okay, so you saved me…" She looks down at the walkers and frowns. "Now, I want my drink."

"Beth, I said no." I clip my knife back into the holster, trying to distract myself from her incompetent begging, and make sure it's in there good.

Beth huffs at me and rolls her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel _anything?_"

"God damn it." I slap myself in the face after breaking under the pressure. "We'll go. We'll go and you'll get your drink."

Beth bits her lip, trying to conceal a smile. "You promise?"

Of all the people that have begged me, Beth Greene is the only one to break me. I've said no to numerous amounts of people. My dad, Uncle Merle, Rick, Carol, Sophia, Carl, and pretty much everyone else in the group. Except when they would beg, I stuck to my answers. This time is different… this time I've succumbed to the begging.

I swallow and stare at the dead walkers below. "I p-promise." Shit… I've should've said no.


	11. Apologize

If you're a person like me, quarrelsome and persistent, then you probably know what it's like to apologize. For me, it's the worst thing in the world. I can say up to: "I'm." As soon as that comes out, I immediately go on pause. Well, that was before I started to feel bad about everything. About my uncle; about my dad; about Beth's dad; like I said… _everything_.

I watch Beth walk ahead of me, eager to find her drink that she needs _so _bad, and listen as she sings an old country song. She seems pretty pleased with herself today after finally getting me to say yes to her ignorant wants. I, on the other hand, am not happy today. I'm tired and feel like a total piece of shit after hogging down half a snake from the night before. I should've just given her the whole thing.

"Hey, Darby," Beth calls from ahead, "You think there'd be a drink in there?" She looks ahead and points at a desolate building in the distance, with a golf course right next to it.

I give a single nod. I'm not gonna guess there's a drink in there, because I _know _there's a drink in there. Places like that always have some sort of bar, just so the big wigs that go there don't get dehydrated. My father used to say that my grandpa used to hang around places like that when he was younger. Not that grandpa was a part of the club, he was just the towel boy for the pool.

Beth looks back at me and smiles, clearly excited about what lies ahead. "Come on," she says, holding her hand out.

I grab onto her hand and immediately regret it. All at once she pulls me along with her, running like the wind. She's jumping and skipping _and _running all at the same time. I feel like I'm going to be armless before we even get to the clubhouse.

When the door comes into view, Beth lets go of my arm and latches onto the door handle instead, immediately pushing into the room without looking first. As soon as she's in the main lobby of the clubhouse, I hear her scream; not a terrified kind of scream, but still, it was a scream.

I, too, push into the room. "You alright?" I ask, looking around for her. When I see it I scream a little, too. It's a disgusting, rank sight that would make anyone want to turn around and run for the hills. Walkers are strung up from each part of the ceiling, just reaching out their discolored limps and growling at the sight of both of us.

She stands, staring at the walkers that are strung up like mice. "I'm fi-"

Before Beth can even finish her sentence, a pounding noise erupts at the door, making me feel a sudden panicky feeling in the core of my stomach.

"Shit, I'm out" I yell, running away, leaving the pounding door and the strung up walkers alone with Beth.

"Darby, you chickenshit, that's not a walker at the door…" She looks over at the door and then back at me, as if wanting me to check out whoever, or whatever, it is that is pounding away at the door.

I hold onto my knife with my good hand and make my way towards the door, more nervous than I've ever been in my life. I set my hand on the door knob and twist the lock that was keeping whoever it is out there out. In a quick motion, I twist the handle, push open the door, and jump back.

"Holy shit," a familiar sounding voice says huskily, while slamming the door shut behind them, "I thought I was gonna get my ass chewed out there."

I look at the ground, way too afraid to even see who it might be standing in the doorway. I look over at Beth, who is focused on the mysterious person in the doorway. She's smiling, probably a good sign, I'd say.

"Darby," the voice speaks again, "you're alive…"

Hearing the voice again makes me look up. I have to be dreaming… or high. Standing before me is the man that I've spent my whole life with. The man that raised me, fed me, and managed to not kill me at a young age. It's… _my dad. _

"Dad…" I whisper. I can't say anything else. For some reason, I'm scared and sad and really happy all at the same time. I can feel my heart beat really fast and tears begin to prick at my eyes.

My dad stands in the same place with his arms open. "Come here, kid."

I grin widely and run into his arms, just like I'm a little kid again. "You… you made it out. You made it out and you didn't die." I exhale deeply, wanting to say so much but not knowing _how _to say it. Then it hits me. "Oh my god," I whisper, "I am so, so, so, so, so sorry for what I said back at the prison! I never meant any of it and I was really stupid for saying it. I wouldn't want Merle as a daddy, I only want you to be my daddy, that's the honest truth. I love you!"

He looks down at me, flustered by my sudden apology. "Well, that was a surprise… pretty sure that's the first time I hear "sorry" come out of your mouth in a long time. But, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. I love you more than anything, kid. You're my daughter, ain't nothing changing that." He kisses my forehead and stares out at the blonde girl that's been accompanying me ever since our break at the prison. "Beth," he murmurs, "you made it and you… you're with Darby? She didn't kill or injure you, did she?"

Beth shakes her head. "No. She's helped me more than anything."

"What?" He asks, looking down at me with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yeah," she confirms.

Dad extends one of his arms, waiting for her to hug him and me both. "My girls made it," he breaths as she bear hugs the both of us.

Wait… did he just say… _my girls?_ Yes, I do believe he did. But, for once in my life, I don't care. My dad is here with me. I don't have to pretend that everything is going to be okay anymore, because now I know it is.


	12. I've never

I keep my mouth shut as me, my dad, and Beth walk through the forest together. I haven't spoken since we left the country club, which didn't turn out to be an easy victory like I thought it would be at first. Beth didn't get her drink like she wanted, but instead, almost got killed in the kitchen by a walker that seemed to have come out of nowhere. The amazing part was when she killed it. She just smashed a wine bottle right over the counter and stabbed it in the head. Now, that's something that you would only see in the movies.

Even though she almost got killed, Beth is still persistent. She wants that alcohol, no, she _needs _the alcohol. Before we left, she found some peach schnapps. She cried instead of drinking it. My dad, being the gentleman that he is, just broke the damn bottle, picked her up, and led us right out the door.

Right now, in the forest, Beth is trying to guess my dad's "past line of work." I'm guessing she doesn't know that we weren't shit before all this happened. Drifters, is what my dad calls it. I would call it that, too, but saying that we weren't shit is pretty accurate.

"Right there," dad says, pointing a finger at something ahead of us. "That's where you're gonna get a _real _first drink."

I look ahead, curious about the place where there's supposedly alcohol. When I see it, I stop in place and blink. "Dad, isn't this that place that has a moonshine still inside? The one that you and Michonne found? Beth isn't gonna like moonshine. She won't even be able to hold it down, it's, like, a hundred percent alcohol."

Dad looks back at me and gives me that "Shut up, or else" look, as he puts his boot up to the door and kicks it in.

Inside, the cabin smells like must and rot. Then again, everything nowadays seems to smell like both of those things time fifteen. Garbage and cigarette butts are strung across the floor, which reminds me a lot of home. That's not good is it?

Dad picks up a glass jar filled with moonshine and smiles slightly. "Here," he says to Beth while pouring it into a separate glass, "a real first drink for you."

I watch as she takes a small sip and grimaces at the strong taste of the drink. I knew she wasn't gonna like it. I don't even think my dad likes it; he just drinks it because it goes along with his redneck image. I notice Beth drink the rest down, even though she looked like she was gonna spit it out the first time, and I grit my teeth. _Maybe I want some moonshine, too, Beth. _

"Here," she hands my dad a glass, smiling away.

"No, someone's gotta be sober here." He lightly pushes the glass away from him.

"Huh," Beth shakes her head at the garbage strung around the room, and focuses on an old pink ashtray that resembles a bra, which looks like the one that my uncle Merle had in his truck… it was a stolen truck, but still. "Who would buy any of this stuff?" she asks, furrowing a brow.

Dad huffs. "My dad had a place just like this."

Once again, Beth pushes the glass of moonshine towards him, wanting to share a drink with the older man. "Wanna play a game?"

My dad's brow furrows at this. "A game?"

The blonde nods and takes another sip of her moonshine. "Yeah. I name something I've never done. If you've done it, you drink. But, if you haven't done it, I drink."

"Alright, fine," my dad gives in and pours another glass of moonshine. "Darby, you want some white lightning?" I nod and accept the clear liquid that smells like rubbing alcohol. "I've never been out of Georgia… or even on a vacation."

Both of them look at me, so I'm guessing that it's my turn. "Uh, I've never passed out from drinking."

"You little shit…" dad whispers, before taking a gulp from his glass.

"I… I've never been a prisoner in jail." Beth looks right at my dad and exhales, waiting for an answer right off.

My dad's face transforms from being neutral to being real pissed off. His eyebrows knit together, and he immediately stands straight up. "_That's_ what you think of me?" He stares down at Beth, angrily gritting his teeth. "Is that what you think of _both _of us?"

"Dad," I say, trying to get him to lay off, "she didn't mean it like that."

I can tell he doesn't give a shit about what I've said. He looks out the window and glances at a walker that's been trying to get to us. He grabs onto Beth, forcefully pulling her out the door, and practically drags her out the door. I quickly follow them out the door and watch as my dad forces his bow into Beth's arms and begins shooting at the hungry walker, pinning it to the wall of the cabin.

In a quick motion, the blonde manages to break free of his grip, clearly scared out of her mind. She yells something that I can't understand at first. The only thing she says that I can understand is "prison."

My dad frowns. Whatever she had said to him, must've really gotten to him. He opens his mouth and closes his eyes. I'm too far away to hear what he says, but I think I know what he's talking about. I know that he's talking about the prison and the Governor, who he and Michonne put a great effort into finding.

I walk towards them, just as Beth reaches forward and gives him a hug from behind, and just like that, I stop. I decide that I'm not going to invade their moment, and go back up on the porch of the cabin, where I sit down and stare down at the chipping wood. As soon as I see them step up onto the porch I smile. They don't see me, but I don't care. They take a seat on the other side of the porch and lean into the hard wall of the cabin.

"I was nobody," I hear my dad say. "Nothing. Just some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother." He sighs, still obviously upset. "She ain't mine, either."

I turn my head, listening extra closely. _She isn't mine? _What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"What're you talking about?" Beth's voice cuts in.

"Darby… she ain't mine… she's Merle's. He just didn't want the responsibility of taking care of a baby; especially a girl. He was gonna give her up, but I didn't let him," my dad continues.

I look back down at the wooden porch. I don't even want to listen to their conversation anymore. Everything just seems to change all of a sudden. The hard floor beneath me goes soft; the hot air goes cold; and my dad… turns into my uncle? I've never been more surprised than this in my entire life.


	13. My daddy

"_She isn't mine either." _His voice rings in my head, over and over, driving me crazy each time I hear it in my brain. _"Darby… she ain't mine… she's Merle's. He just didn't want the responsibility of taking care of a baby; especially a girl. He was gonna give her up, but I didn't let him." _Every time I blink, or even sigh, I hear my dad's voice saying those exact words. It's driving me insane, just thinking… thinking about the fact that Merle Dixon, the man that I thought was my uncle, is actually my father.

I hear the porch squeak next to me. Someone's sits down next to me, but I'm too absorbed in my thoughts, with my face in my hands, to even look up and see who it is.

"Darby, you alright, kid?" my dad's deep voice fills my ears, making me want to smother myself with my hands, but I obviously cannot do that. Not in front of him anyway…

I manage to uncover one of my eyes and glance over at him through the corner of my eye. _Just ask him about Merle. Ask him about Merle and just listen to what he has to say. _Just fucking do it. I gain a bit of bravery, uncover both of eyes and stare right into his eyes. "I… oh screw it… I know that Uncle Merle is my real father. I heard you tell Beth a little while ago."

The man that I've called my father for over sixteen years looks down and bites his lip hard. "You've got some damn good ears, that's for sure…" he murmurs and lets out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, girl. I said it. I know it might seem crazy…"

"Yeah," I nod, "it's pretty crazy. Like, on a scale of one to ten, it's a one-hundred."

"You mad at me because of it? Because, if you are, you should know it ain't my fault. My brother wasn't responsible. He didn't want to have a child. I mean, I told the damn idiot to use protection, but he didn't listen to me. No, not one bit." His voice is a light whisper, undoubtedly so Beth, wherever the hell she is, can't hear us talking privately. "You have your mother's looks, too. She was pretty, too pretty for Merle. She stayed for a while, until you were about four. You see, I told you the truth about that before."

"Who was she?" I ask, determined to find out the truth about everything. This has been something that I've wanted to know for a while, you see, so it's pretty damn important that I find out tonight, since the truth about everything else is being released anyway…

"Well, she wasn't no stripper like Merle had told you…" I lean in close, giving him that "hurry up and tell me look." He smiles at me and shakes his head at my impatience. "Your mother was a history teacher at the high school. Her name was Blair. You're probably wondering why she left, but not even I know why, and you probably resent her for it. She might've left you, girl, but she also loved you. She loved you a lot, just like I love you and always will. I know, I ain't your daddy but-"

"_Are _my daddy," I interrupt, "You, as in _Daryl Dixon_, are my daddy. Maybe not biologically, but still… you're the own that took care of me, kept me fed, and tucked me in at night. If that ain't a daddy then I don't know what is."

He smiles, a _real _smile, which is something that I haven't seen in a while, but love. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into a big hug, again, something that I haven't seen in a while, but love. "Should we go and get Beth?"

I shrug. "The more the merrier, right?"

My dad looks around the corner of the porch for the blonde, who hopefully isn't dead meat, literally, after sitting around alone. "Beth," he calls, "you alright out there?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," she calls back as she comes around the corner with a big smile. "I'm alright, and I think there's something that'll help us all feel that way too."

Dad looks at me and then up at Beth. "We just drank moonshine. What else'll make us feel good?"

"I say we burn this place down."

Just like Beth, I grin like a fool at the idea of burning a place like this down. I lean forward, towards Beth and give her a thumbs up. "That sounds like a perfect idea. What about you, daddy-o?"

"It's crazy," my old man mumbles. "It's crazy, but we can do it."

Together, we all get up from the porch, and reenter the cabin to grab the remaining moonshine. None of us bother taking one with us for our journey, because, well, I think we all know that we don't need it anymore. I watch from the outside with my dad and Beth, as a small fire builds on the inside of the cabin and then soon envelops the entire place from the inside out. My dad sticks up his middle finger at the place, smiling with all his glory. Beth and I look at each other and smile, as if we both know what to do next. I put up both of my middle fingers and begin to walk away. I'm just gonna forget about everything from the past and move on, after all, it is about time that let go of it and focus on my family… my _true_ family.

* * *

_**AN:** Hey guys! I know, I know, this chapter was a short one and that's why I'm gonna post two for y'all next time! They're getting so close to Terminus and I have it all planned out... it's actually gonna be pretty crazy. Just y'all wait, you'll be shocked!  
_

_~Ryder _


	14. Claimed

_**AN: **Okay, so instead of posting two chapters, I combined two of the chapters that I've written to make an extra long chapter for you guys. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

I remember when people used to hunt for fun and for food. It required sneaking; a skill that I did not have before the outbreak, but obtained over the years. It also required good aim; something that you have to have now, because if you don't have it, you'll die. When you aren't good at sneaking or aiming during a time like this, you might as well swallow a razor blade. That, or hire a Dixon to help you.

"Easy," my dad whispers, while slowly trailing behind Beth, who was holding onto his crossbow. The walker in front of them didn't even know that he was a target. "Okay," he nods "Beth, you've got this. Do it the same way that I showed you before. I'll be here watching just in case."

Dad and I watch as Beth trails the walker, determined to kill it in a single shot. She leaned in, ready to shoot, when a snapping sound fluttered through the air. We watch as Beth falls to the ground, dropping the crossbow in the process. The target walker turned around and growled as soon as it saw her sitting there, susceptible to anything around her.

There's an instinct in my brain that tells me to run and save her. I immediately begin running as fast as I can without even seeing where my dad was. The bow is just inches away, but my knife is already on me. _Screw it. _As quickly as possible, I reach down, grab the bow, and shoot without even really looking. The walker falls, so slow that it looks like the thing is stuck in slow-mo.

I look down at Beth and forcefully give a smile. "Thought you were gonna die, huh?"

"You don't even know," she whispers.

I notice her looking behind me, and turn around, nearly bumping heads with the man behind me. "Jesus, dad," I mumble, taking a step backwards. "I thought you were a walker…"

He looks at me, the walker, and then at Beth. "Well, if I was, I think you'd be able to kill me in a second with that bow."

"Really?"

"Absolutely not. If I was a walker, I'd kill you both in a second," he says, smiling. "Just, uh, go and get that arrow out of that things head and I'm gonna help her up. Look out for any more of them bear traps. Don't want you losing your leg, now." Dad gives me a quick pat on the shoulder and reaches down, helping Beth to her feet.

I grab the shaft of the arrow, just above the fletching, and pull as hard as I can. The arrow makes a crunching sound as it makes its way out of the newly deceased walkers head. Wait… does that even make sense? If a walker's already dead, then does it become deceased, or…? Whatever, it's dead either fucking way.

I begin to walk back to where my dad and Beth are standing together, hand in hand. I wonder how they got there so fast… especially since Beth has a limp. I make my way over a slight hill, and finally see what they're staring at. It's a tombstone, just sitting amid the cemetery with the rest of the gray stone slabs.

The stone reads:

**Nov 12****th**** 1837**

** Dec 10****th**** 1874**

** Beloved Father **

Only thirty-seven-years-old. He, the "Beloved Father," was born the day after my birthday. I think my birthday's in November, anyway.

Beth extends her arm in my direction, inviting me to come and stare at the single gravesite with her and my father. I move my way towards them, and take my spot next to the friendly girl, who wraps her arm around my shoulder. I can only imagine what she's thinking about now… just standing here, staring at this grave, which someone's father's resting in. That's something I wish I could've gotten a chance to do; give Hershel a decent burial, instead of just leaving his body on the ground of that prison yard.

Dad reaches down and places a few yellow flowers on top of the grave with respect. "Day after you were born, Darby." He stares down at the grave and then over at me, as if making sure I knew when my birthday was.

I nod. "I was born in 'ninety-seven, though. He's got a good hundred and sixty years on me."

"Right," he agrees.

After staring at the grave for a good ten minutes, we all turn around and begin to walk away. We walk for a few minutes, but stop, because of Beth's hurt foot. I offer to help her limp along, but she says that she doesn't need me getting hurt too. I guess I can respect that answer.

When we walk again, my dad stops and narrows his eyes, staring out into the distance. "Holy shit," his eyes go huge, "look at that! Why didn't we think of this? Of course, it all makes sense. Where there's a graveyard there's gotta be a funeral home not too far by."

The funeral home is large; at least a two-story place. It looks pretty nice. Who knows what the inside looks like, though? Could be dead crawling all over in there like mice…

"Don't you go in there," my dad warns as I reach for the door handle.

I back away from the door and allow him to step forward and take point. Me and Beth lookout as he pushes the door open wide, crossbow loaded and at the ready in his hand, as he bangs on the side of the door hard. After knowing the coast is clear, he looks back at us and nods. "It's good."

The inside of the funeral home is surprisingly, uh, clean. For sitting out in the middle of no-mans-land, the place didn't seem to have a speck of dust anywhere. My dad and Beth go one way, while I go the other. I find myself in an extremely white kitchen. Strange. Just beneath the cupboards, coffee supplies sat completely full, again, with no dust. I open up the cupboard to gifts directly from god. There's food… jam, and peanut butter, and pigs feet… _my god_.

I walk into the other room, trying to find my dad and Beth to tell them of my amazing discovery. An open doorway sits at the end of the hall, making their last stop obvious. I walk up to the open doorway and peek my head in. It's a parlor room. Beth is sitting down, letting my father wrap up her ankle.

"You feeling alright," my dad asks, looking up at her.

Beth nods. "Y-yeah. I didn't really expect a bear trap to be out in the middle of nowhere." Her voice is a little shaky, no doubt from the pain of her ankle. "Your daughter saved my life back there, Daryl."

"I know," my dad clears his throat, "She wouldn't just let you die out there. She's a good girl, really. Might not seem like it, but she is, and always has been, even if she don't wanna admit it. Should've heard what she had to say to me about the other night when she heard us talking."

"What'd she say?"

Dad looks down and smiles faintly. "She still counts me as her real father. Made my day, that girl did." He stands up, letting Beth rest her foot on a chair, and takes a seat next to her. He bites his lip and averts his eyes to the ground. "Think she'd be mad if she knew about the prison?"

"The kiss?" Beth's brows knitted together. "Definitely. She might be a good girl, Daryl, but she's still a hothead. She'd probably hate me again. You know how weird it would be to just go up to her and say: "Hey, girly, Beth and I just happen to like each other. No big deal that she's only a year older than you." Would that not be weird, though?"

I shake my head. I fucking knew it. I fucking knew it, but I don't give a fuck about it. Ain't none of my business anyway, right?

Dad shrugs. "A kiss is just a kiss, Beth. Ain't nothing wrong with a kiss." He leans in, as if going in for a kiss, but then quickly retracts. "Ugh, we can't. Not here, anyway."

Instead of eavesdropping even more, I walk into the parlor room as if I heard nothing. "Hi, guys!" I smile and sit in a chair that's in the row behind theirs. "You are not gonna guess what I found in the kitchen." Before hearing a reply, I jump out of my chair and dart back into the hallway and back to the kitchen.

I stand next to the kitchen cupboard, just waiting for them to enter so I can show them the golden stash that's just waiting behind the small door.

Dad walks in first, eyebrows raised up and arms crossed. "What's going on in here?"

I fling open the cupboard door and smile. "Perfection, duh."

"Whoa…" I hear Beth breath behind me.

"Yeah," I say with a smile. "It's got, like, everything. Cola, peanut butter, jam, pigs feet; which are _mine. _And-"

"Hold up," dad interrupts. "Look at this place; it's clean as a whistle, Darby. Someone's probably living in here still. We'll take what we need," he declares. "And, the pig's feet are mine. Nice try, kid."

I shake my head, without breaking eye-contact with him. "Well, I had dibs first. _Nice try_, old man."

"Oh whatever, you little brat," he replies, closing the cabinet in the process. "I'm gonna go set up an alarm. Beth, you're in charge 'til I get back. And, Darby, don't do any stupid when I'm gone."

As my dad walks away, I look over at Beth and cock a brow. "You're in charge, huh?"

Beth nods. "You heard the man," she says with a teasing smile. "He'll only be gone for, I'm guessing, ten minutes. Let's take a tour."

"A tour? How do you know one of the rooms in this place ain't filled with walkers, then we open it, and wham!" she jumps when I yell, "just like that, we're dead as soon as we're living."

She stares at me and shakes her head, more than likely thinking that I'm an idiot. "You've got a knife; learn to utilize it properly, and not use it to cut off your limbs."

I take my knife out of the holster and follow behind her. Cut off my limbs… hmph. Fingers don't count as limbs, silly Beth. "Hey," I call up towards her, "don't you be traveling too far ahead."

Beth looks back at me and grins. "So the big, tough Darby Dixon is actually afraid of losing me?"

I smile back. "I ain't afraid of losing you, because I _ain't _gonna lose you. Friends ain't supposed to leave each other, right?" Whoa… I said that she and I were _friends_; that's like a swear word in my book.

"Right," she confirms.

I open a door, careful not to be too nosy, and look inside. It leads to a staircase; probably the mortuary. I remember attending a funeral of one of my father's friends, and being left behind in the funeral home; somehow I managed to make my way down into the mortuary, where I found a dead, a _really_ dead, body on display. Cute story, right? It'll be good to tell the grandkids one day.

I hold my knife at my side, read for anything, as I make my way down the staircase. I can hear Beth crawl down behind me, careful to not make too much noise.

"Stop," she says, grabbing onto my shoulder. "What if there's someone down there?"

"Oh, _now_ you're scared?"

"Shut up, Darby." She rolls her eyes and continues walking down the stairs, past me.

We walk into a desolate room, where obviously no one is staying. Surprisingly, there is a body on the table. Perhaps the person who resides here was the owner and is continuing his work? Or, some sicko, who likes doing it with dead people lives here. Yeah, I'm just gonna stop thinking about it.

Beth stares down at the body on the slab and gawks. "It's beautiful... Whoever did this cared, you know? They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered that these things were people...before all of this. They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful?"

I look over at her and nod, although I am sort of creeped out. "It is. Looks like no everyone out there isn't exactly bad, I guess." I sigh and look over at the stairs. It has to have been ten minutes by now. "Think dad is up there?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Uh," she looks over at the body, just taking in its "beauty," "Yeah, he probably is."

We find my dad back in the parlor, laying down in a coffin. I pull two chairs next to the coffin, and take my seat next to him, putting my feet up on the opposite chair. Beth takes the seat by the piano and taps away at the keys, singing a light song. She stops and looks over at us; my dad tells her to keep singing, while laying down in his coffin. It's comfortable, for what feels like the first time in forever, and we're safe.

We stay relaxed in the parlor room, until my dad sits up and asks: "Who wants dinner?"

I glance over at Beth, who is beaming from ear-to-ear. She raises her hand, and my dad walks over and lifts her up with no problem.

We enter the kitchen, excited and hungry.

"Oh my god," I say, taking a sip of diet cola. I forgot how good soda tasted… it's like heaven.

My dad looks at me, as he dips his hand into the jar of pickled pig's feet, and smiles. "This is good, isn't it? We haven't had anything like this in a good long time." He takes a bite of his first pig foot and I cringe. I forgot how weird it looks to see other people eat them.

"You know what I miss?" Beth asks, popping the top of one of the jars of jam.

I cock a brow. "Tofu?"

"Don't be a dick," my dad hassles. "She probably misses, uh… pizza?"

Beth shakes her head. "You got it, Daryl," she says, pointing a jam covered spoon at him. She holds up the jam and smiles. "Does anybody want any of this?"

Dad nods and points at himself while taking a nip of cola. Beth brings a spoonful over to his mouth and allows him to take his full of the sticky red substance. She smiles and pulls the spoon out of his mouth so slow, that it almost looks sexual.

"That's really fucking good," my father declares, smacking his lips together.

A sound alarms from the outside, making me swallow a ginormous piece of the pig foot that I've been nibbling on.

"I've got it." Dad gets up, and walks towards the front of the house.

I listen as the door opens and nervously wait for my father to warn us or just close it. "Is it okay?" I ask, setting down a full bottle of cola.

"Just a stray dog," he yells back, closing the door. He comes back, taking a seat back on the counter and tears into another pig foot. "We should try to make peace with whoever lives here."

"Why do you suddenly believe in good people?" Beth asks, staring directly at him.

My dad stares back at her. "You know."

The alarm outside sounds again, alerting us all. Once again, my dad gets up and goes to check out the door. And, once again, the door slams shut. "Beth!" my dad shrieks. Beth and I share a glance, questioning if that even happened. "Darby!" again, my father's voice ripples through the room, and Beth and I jump off the counter.

We run out of the kitchen, holding onto the crossbow for safety. My father leans up against the door, pushing against the walker arms that are reaching in through the cracks. "Darby, get Beth out of here!"

I run back towards Beth and quickly turn around. "What about you!?"

"I'll be fine, just fucking go!"

"You heard the man," I say, grabbing onto Beth, "We've gotta go!"

I lead us into the back of the house. There's a door somewhere… I just know it. I look around frantically, as I hear walkers pour into the house.

"There's the door!" Beth points at the white doorway and runs towards it.

I run behind Beth and stare at the door. I twist the knob and push. _It won't fucking budge. _I look at the door and push again, practically throwing myself into it. I can feel it starting to go. I look up at the door again, and kick it, finally making it budge open enough for us to push through to the backyard cemetery together.

"Darby, this way!" I see Beth run towards the side of the house, near the road.

I look back at the funeral home and shake my head. "We can't go yet! My dad's in there!"

Beth stares at me and opens her mouth, but immediately directs her attention towards the road. The darkness brightens up with headlights… headlights? A car!? Beth stands in place, staring as a black car stops next to her. I can hear the door open and then immediately close.

"No!" I can hear my dad yelling behind me. _He made it out alive! Praise the lord! _He runs towards the dark car and then I realize what's happened. Someone's kidnapped Beth.

I run. I run faster than I've ever run before in my life, trying to catch that black car, which is speeding down the road. My dad tails right behind me, yelling. When the yelling stops I look behind me at him and shake my head, in shock.

"No," I say. "No, no, no, no. Fucking no!" I stop my foot on the ground and kick at the dirt. "Friends don't leave each other!" I yell down the road that the car went down and fall on my knees. "Friend aren't supposed to leave each other…" I can feel tears fall down my face as I realize that it's all over. Beth is gone. I've failed. My friend has left me, and I her. I look down at the ground and continue crying. "Friends aren't supposed to leave each other…" I whisper again.

My dad stops beside me, and falls on his knees, too. He sets hits crossbow on the ground and sits crisscrossed like a small child. He's hurt, too, I just know it and he's giving up. I toss my knife to the ground beside me, only a few feet away from the railroad tracks. I'm giving up, too.

* * *

I don't know how long we've been sitting in the road, but the sun is out now. My dad is staring at the ground still, and I'm just… thinking.

I'm alerted by the sounds of footsteps, and immediately look up around me. Six men are standing around is in a circle.

One specific man, with shaggy dark hair and a compound bow, smiles down at me. "Claimed."


	15. Us

"Don't you even fucking try to touch her!" My dad stands up fast, holding his crossbow, and aiming at the first man he sees.

The man, a gray-haired guy with facial hair, laughs and looks around at his buddies. "A bowman, I respect that," he says, smiling at my father's crossbow. "I'm Joe, and you better put that bow down, or else. If you kill me, my men will kill you in retaliation, and you don't even want to know what'll happen to your daughter, because it sounds like Len has already claimed her. So, what's it gonna be, sir?"

My dad lowers his bow and steps closer to me, never taking his eyes off Joe and the rest of the men. Joe laughs again with his group. These guys must be stupid or something…

"So we ain't killing them?" The man who… claimed me… I think his name is Len, says, a disappointed tone flooding his voice.

Joe shakes his head. "No, we are _not_ killing them. They're with us now."

* * *

We all walk together on the road, my dad and Joe on either side of me and Joe's men, who are called "The Claimers," follow behind us. We all introduced ourselves back at the tracks. My dad simply called us "The Dixons," but I just said my name and left it at that. Then, one-by-one, they started listing their names off. Joe, the leader; Tony, the right arm of Joe; Len, who I'm pretty sure is a pedophile; Harley, who hasn't really said much but hello; Dan, who's creepy, too; Then there's Billy, who's short on brains. There was another guy, Lou, but he isn't around anymore, because someone killed him.

After hours of walking, Joe told us to set up camp. When nighttime rolled around, I was too uncomfortable to even sleep… I think I have the right to blame Len for that. It's morning now, at least four, I can tell because the stars are starting to fade. Everyone around me is asleep, everyone except my dad, who I'm pretty sure didn't sleep well, either.

"Get up, girl, we ain't gonna sit around this place any longer," my dad says, looking directly at me.

"We leaving?" I probably sound more excited than I should. If we were to get caught by one of Joe's guys we'd be dead in a second.

Dad shakes his head. "Just going out to find something to eat. Be quiet going under them traps, too, wake any of them up and they'll be on our tail for sure," he whispers.

I stand up, shaking the dirt and leaves off my clothes as I go. The alarm the boys set up isn't a tough one to get by; it's just some string and metal, like the one that Beth and I set up when we were alone… I crawl under the sting, careful not to stand up too early and look back at the boys. _They're still sleeping… it's a perfect time to slice each and every one of their throats. _I shake my head at my idea and keep going.

My dad walks ahead, holding his bow at the ready. He's determined to get something to eat, and probably to take his frustration out on life.

I wanna take my frustration out, too. I wanna just find a walker, pull out my knife and just tear the thing apart. I'd like to do that to Len, too, because he's creepy, but, once again, it's just a silly idea.

After walking around for about fifteen minutes, ny father stops in his tracks and squints at something in the distance. He pulls his bow up, and walks so lightly, that the leaves beneath him don't even crack. I stop next to him and watch. It's a rabbit; a deliciously tender rabbit to just chew on. _My life will be complete with this creature in my stomach. _My dad squeezes the trigger of his bow, sending an arrow into the creature. But as soon as his arrow went in, so did another one… _fucking Len. _

Both my dad and I turn, obviously pissed. "What the hell are you doing?" my dad asks.

Len shrugs as if nothing's wrong. "Catching me some breakfast." Dad charges towards the rabbit, eager to get to it first. "My arrow's the one that hit first," Len continues, "that cottontail belongs to me."

"We've been out here since the sun came up," I say, crossing my arms at the shaggy looking man across from me.

Len seems to ignore my statement, and walks straight towards my dad. "You see the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here. Now that rabbit you're holding is claimed, boy. Claimed whether you like it or not. So if I was you, I'd hand it over, now, before you get to wish you didn't even get out of bed this morning. You know, I bet there's a bitch, got you all messed up, am I right? Got you walking around here like a dead man, you just lost yourself a piece of tail, must've been a good one. Tell me something, was it one of the little ones? 'Cause they...don't last too long out here. I'm surprised your girl here ain't been killed yet."

Before I can even think, I say the first thing that comes to my mind: "You fucking asshole. You've been following us around all morning, because you don't know how to hunt and fend for yourself. You depend on other people to keep you alive; you'd be dead if it weren't for Joe, and you fucking know it. My dad and I claimed that rabbit the exact moment we saw it, and if you think you're taking it, you are dead wrong, asshole."

"Easy, little missy, easy," Joe demands, budging into our conversation over the cottontail; excuse me, I mean _the Dixon's _cottontail, "Let's see if we can figure out what the problem is, huh?" Joe steps in between my dad and Len, pushing them both apart. He looks over at Len, who is slinging his bow over his shoulder and asks if he claimed it.

"Hell yeah," Len confirms. Such a fucking liar, because I didn't hear him say shit.

Joe looks over at me and my dad and gives us a wretched look. "Well, there you go. That critter belongs to Len."

"Well let's have it." Len holds his hand out, waiting for my dad to just give up and slap the creature in his hand like nothing. Bullshit.

"Looks like you maybe want an explanation," Joe cuts in again. "It's survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there," he shoves his finger in our faces, as if he's a teacher, "I laid some rules down to keep things from going Darwin every couple of hours. Keep our merry band together and stress free," he adds.

"So, what you're telling me, is that there's some kind of code that we have to follow?" I question him up front, you see, because I don't understand these "rules" of his. They're stupid.

The gray-haired man nods and gives me a smile. "That's correct, miss. All you gotta do is claim. That's how you mark your territory, your prey, your bed at night. One word: claimed."

As soon as I'm about to accept his code, my dad huffs. "I ain't claiming nothing."

Len steps up towards my dad, ready for a fight. "We're gonna teach him, right?" He looks over at Joe and growls. "The rules _**say**_ we gotta teach him!"

Joe ignores the shaggy man and continues talking to me and my father. "Now it wouldn't be fair to punish you two for violating rules that you didn't even know existed."

Stomping his feet, and laughing out of astonishment, Len turns away from us.

"Let me see that, partner," Joe hassles, taking the rabbit out of my father's hand.

My dad refuses to let go. Both, him and Joe, have a grip on the bunny. Joe lifts it to the tree behind my dad and chops it in half with his tomahawk. He throws the head piece to Len, and my dad keeps the bottom half. _Great, we get to munch on rabbit ass tonight; yum. _

"Claimed," the older man informs again, "that's all you gotta say." He looks down at the haunch in my dad's hand and slightly shrugs. "Ass end is still an end."

And just like that, we all walk away together in silence.

* * *

"So, what's the plan, Darby?" Joe asks, as we walk together along the tracks.

"How so?"

Joe cocks a brow and sighs. "Well, you and your daddy are with us now, but you stopping?"

I nod.

"What's the plan?" He asks again, persistent about me and my father's disposition.

I bite my lip and look him in the eye. "Just, uh, looking for the right place, is all."

Joe nods. "Ah. We ain't good enough for you, huh?" he takes a big drag of his cigarette and blows the light smoke in front of him.

"Some of you ain't exactly friendly," I murmur.

He beams widely and shakes his head. "You ain't do friendly yourself… you know you need a group out here."

"No, we don't."

"No," he insists, "you do. You and your pa should be with us."

I sigh and look over at a walker that's headed straight for us. It growls as the boys toss it around, until Billy finally stabs it in the head while it's in Dan's arms. The boys, and my dad, who's talking to Harley, look back at us for a brief moment and then go back to their own business.

Joe takes another drag off his cig. "You follow the rules. You claim. You steal, you're killed. And don't lie, because that's a slippery slope, indeed. Think you got it?"

"Happens if I break them?"

"You get a beaten. The severity of which depends on the offence and the general attitude of the day. But that don't happen much… when men, and ladies, like us follow rules, and cooperated a little bit, the world becomes ours." When the boys stop in front of an old abandoned building, Joe whistles. "Right there," he says, "That's our home for the evening." He walks ahead a little, anxious to get into the building.

I look down at the ground and yell for him. "Hey!" Joe turns around, brows raised and ready to hear what I have to say. "There ain't an _us_."

"Well, are you leaving?" I look over at my dad and shake my head. "Well, since you're staying it sure seems like there _is_ an us." He walks ahead, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, then turns around again. "You a cat person, Darby? Vicious creatures; loved them since I was three-years-old. Anyway, I'll tell you, and this is true: ain't nothing sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he's an indoor cat."

All of us walk into the building, after making sure the place is clear, of course, and I close the door behind us.

"They ain't here," Tony announces. "Nobody's been here for a while."

I uncover the first car I see. "Claimed," I say, but someone behind me seems to say it at the same time.

I look behind me at Billy, standing with his gun on his shoulder. "I appreciate you following the rules, miss, but we said claimed at the same time. Perhaps we could share the Caddy?"

I gaze over to where my dad is and frown. He's laying down on the concrete, using his trash bag as a pillow. Billy looks at me and then at the car in front of me. "Uh, no, that's alright. You said it first, so the car's yours. Thanks, though."

My father covers his eyes with his arm and sighs just as I take my seat next to him. "What's a matter? You have a car, go sleep in it."

"No. Billy said claimed first, so it's his. I'm sleeping here with you."

My dad makes room for me to lay down with him, and we lay together for what seems like hours until my eyelids get heavy and I fall asleep.

* * *

When morning rolls around, there isn't much to do. I lay with my dad and talk to him about how much I miss the prison and spending time with Patrick when he was still alive. My dad tells me about when he and Michonne used to go on runs and how they would somehow always bring up that if he died, that I would immediately be under her care, which would be better than nothing. We both do our best not to mention _her_. The subject on Beth is just too upsetting to speak of, right now, anyway.

"Christ," someone says a few feet away from us. Both of us sit up, and watch as Len makes his way towards us with his palm out. "Give it here."

I stare up at him and narrow my eyes. "You have all your stuff."

"My half was in the bag; now it's gone. Now, ain't nobody around here interested in no half of a cottontail, except you." he points his finger at my dad, who stands up right away.

My dad steps forward. "You're the only one who gives a shit about that crap!"

Len's lip rises up and he looks down at my dad's bag. "Empty it."

I reach down before he can grab hold and jump backwards. "Step back!"

Joe looks at Len and then snaps the bag from my hands. "You take his rabbit, Darby? Tell me the truth."

I stare intently at Len and huff. "I ain't done nothing wrong and neither has my dad."

"Come on." Joe empties the contents of my father's bag onto the ground and we all watch it fall. A shirt, a couple of cigarettes, and… the head of the rabbit!? "Well, look at that." Joe smiles.

"You put that there, didn't you!? You fucking asshole… I'll kill you myself!" I lunge forward towards Len, but my dad grabs me by the shoulders and keeps me still.

"Now the girl says she didn't take your half of the rabbit; so we got a little conundrum here. Either her or her pa are lying, which is an actionable offense," he gives me the eye exactly when he says "offense, "Or," he laughs. "Or, you done planted on them like some pussy, punk ass, cheating, coward cop, did you? Because, while that would be specifically be breaking the rules, it'd be disappointing."

Len leans in real close to Joe and shows his teeth. "I _**didn't**_."

"Good," Joe looks over at me, "Well…" Without saying anymore, he decks Len in the face, knocking him to the hard concrete below. "Teach him a lesson, gents. He's a lying sack of shit. I'm sick of it. Teach him all the way."

The boys take turns kicking Len and hitting him, while Joe turns towards me and my dad.

"His bow is mine," I call. "Claimed."

Joe looks over at me and nods. "Good job. And, I saw him do it." he smacks his lips together, seemingly proud of what he did.

"Why didn't you try to stop him?" my dad asks.

"Your girl and you told the truth; he lied. You two understand the rules; he doesn't." Joe reaches down, grabs the rabbit and throws it to my dad. "Looks like you get the head, too. Darby, since you followed the rules, I grant you the right to the bow." He walks away, smiling from the dramatic scene.

My dad reaches down and picks up our items that are on the ground below, including the rabbit head.

* * *

The next day I wake up with a headache.

Before we leave the mechanics building, I notice a large spot of blood on the ground and can't help but smile. _Len's dead. _

We walk outside, where the sun isn't very bright. I look down on the ground, besides the building, and gasp. I sort've feel bad about smiling over Len's death, because his dead body looks horrible. He's covered in blood, with an arrow sticking out of his left eye. I shake my head and continue walking, when Harley hands me the compound bow that once belonged to the dead man we left behind.

I feel monstrous. Like I'm a demon and I'm working with the devil. Then I realize, it has to be this way now. This is the world. This is _us._

* * *

_**AN: Okay, so I thinking... I just may start posting longer chapters. Since the next chapter is pretty much gonna be like the last episode, I'm gonna start going down my own track of the story so it turns into an AU. It'll be different from the show, yes, but I am not waiting until October to continue! And there's no way I'm waiting that long to reunite Beth and Daryl, so yeah. Longer chapters... dramatic storyline... death? We'll just have to see. **_


	16. No going back Pt 1

The claimers, and my dad and I, walk down the old dusty road, lined by the tracks. It's been quiet ever since the thing with Len, and I feel like everyone's eyes are on the bow that I'm carrying. We've been walking and stopping every thirty minutes to look for "the walking piece of fecal matter that killed a member of the group and left him to turn," or so Joe says. They sure hold a grudge for whoever this "walking piece of fecal matter" is.

Joe stops and looks to the side of the road. "We're going off road, gentleman. There's a fire burning east of us; I can see the smoke. If that piece of shit is over there, we're gonna teach him all the way. An eye for an eye, boys. Let's go."

I stay in the back as we travel through the moonlit forest, because I'm not too sure about what's gonna happen. These people could be dangerous… they could have large guns and other big weapons… or they could be serial killers… or they could be-

As we near the fire, I don't know if I'm seeing correctly, but… I think these people could be a part of my group… and all of a sudden the fire goes out, it's kicked out by someone. I take a step forward, but someone pulls me back, causing the bushes to make a rustling noise. The two figures look over towards our bushes and then go back to talking.

Joe and Tony step forward with their guns, pointing them at the two. I can't quite hear what they're saying, but then Billy pushes us forward to where everyone is by the fire pit.

"You screwed up, asshole. You hear me!?" Joe questions, holding a gun to someone's head.

I crane my neck to try and see over Dan, but it's no use, he's too tall to see over, or perhaps I'm too short. Joe continues his rant on the poor people sitting by the fire, while I back away to the front of an old car parked a few feet away from us. Apparently Dan thought it was a good idea to follow me, because he is next to the car now, too. I hear him breathe against one of the windows, as he puts his face against it and stares inside. _Must be something good in there._

"Joe!" my dad calls from somewhere in the darkness. "Hold up," he says, walking towards the old man.

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," the old man replies, after his "countdown" is interrupted.

"Just hold up…"

Harley holds my dad at gunpoint. "This is the guy who killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about."

I ignore the rest of the conversation, curious as to what Dan sees inside the car. I walk next to him and whisper: "What's in there?"

He looks back at me, smiling widely, and scoots over to let me see. There's a person in the car… and not just any person… there's only one person with a sheriffs hat like that.

"Carl!?" I look over at Dan and shake my head. "You can't hurt him, Dan, he's my friend. We were in a group together…"

Dan seems to ignore my request, and opens the door to the car anyway. "You come here!" he demands, pulling Carl out of the car by force. He holds him by the neck, running the blade of his knife lightly across his face. "Shhh," he hisses in Carl's ear, "it'll be alright if you don't put up a fight."

I can't take it. I can't watch Carl get raped by someone right in front of my eyes. I look down at the bow in my hand and hold it up, pull back and arrow, and point it over at Dan. "You're not gonna do a fucking thing to him," I warn. "Let him go. He's defenseless. You think you're so tough beating on a fourteen-year-old boy, and taking advantage of him like it's nothing?"

Dan glares back at me with hate in his eyes. He grits his teeth and pushes Carl to the ground. "You ain't gonna do shit."

I'm about to let go of the arrow, when someone tackles me from behind. My head hits the ground _**hard**_. It's all a daze. The same person who tackled me flips me over and sits on my stomach so I can't go anymore. The metallic taste of blood flows through my mouth, and I spit out what I can onto the face of my captor.

"You bitch," a deep voice grumbles. I can tell by the sound… it's Billy. When I can finally see straight, I try to punch at him, but it's no use. He's stronger than me, and he's trying to take advantage, just like Dan's doing to Carl.

I yell the first thing that comes to my mind: "Daddy! Help!"

Billy laughs and rips open my flannel. "You ain't never gonna forget your first time, kiddo."

As I try and wrestle out of Billy's grip, a shot is fired out behind us. I turn my head, and see Rick and Joe engaged in a heavy fight. Before I know it, Rick is on the ground. Joe kicks him. Then Tony fires a shot towards Michonne. Carl is still trying to wrestle Dan.

I keep my eyes locked on Rick's fight. He's up to Joe's level.

"What the hell you gonna do now sport?" Joe asks, laughing in Rick's face.

Rick stares at Joe. He's determined to get out of this alive. He growls, and dives his face straight into the older man's neck, ripping out a piece of flesh.

Billy gets off of me and tries to run, desperate to live. A shot rings out and he falls. _That's what you get. _

I don't know what's happening. I can hear, but I don't bother getting up to see it. I bury my face into the dirt covered ground. I'm crying. I have my reasons to. I was tackled; hit my head; almost got raped; and I'm pretty sure I swallowed a tooth. Fuck. I can feel someone grab onto me, but I resist. I don't want to be touched.

"Darby… please… get up." It's my dad. He grabs onto my shoulders, lifting me from the dirt. "Hey," he hugs me, "you're okay. He's dead. They're all dead." He wipes the blood from my face with his bare hand and wipes it on his pants.

I manage to look up at him, and make eye contact. "He… they… they were bad people, daddy." My voice comes out so soft, it sounds like I'm about six. "I hit my head… I hit my head, and it hurts really, really bad." I'm still crying from everything. I try to stop, but it's impossible. I was desecrated. I couldn't fight my way out of this one this time. I may have been somewhat strong before, but I'm weak now.

He looks down at me, looking like he's about to cry himself, and kisses my forehead. "You ain't gonna hurt no more, little girl. When I'm here, you ain't gonna hurt."

I don't say anything else. Instead, I lay across his lap and close my eyes, and somehow manage to fall asleep.

* * *

I'm woken up in the morning and told that we have to leave. I gather up the compound bow that I had before and give everyone the go that I'm ready.

We all walk together, back down the tracks, Rick and Michonne in the front, my dad in the middle, and Carl next to me in the back.

Carl is quiet. He's disturbed. What took place last night scared him, just like it did me, and I don't blame him. His hat covers most of his face, so I can't see him. I can only imagine what he's thinking…

"You put up a good fight," he pipes up, looking over at me through the corner of his eye. "Last night, after that man attacked you, you were crying," he states the obvious.

I inhale deeply and look at the ground. _Don't cry now, Darby, please don't cry again. _I squeeze my eyes shut and nod.

"Did he hurt you?" I can feel him staring over at me still.

I open my eyes and nod again. "He, uh, knocked a few of my teeth out. Besides that, no. My mental stability is pretty much shot for now, though."

Carl steps closer to me and grabs my hand. "I'm sorry. It was scary," his voice cracks, "but I'm glad we got away together."

I look over at him and force a smile. Carl doesn't smile back, although I think he tried. None of us can smile; not today anyway. "I'm glad we made it out, too. We're family. You're my brother," I retort.

"Yeah," he says, in a hushed whisper, letting go of my hand, "I'm your brother."

Rick slows up in the front, and stops to look at a wooden slab that's on the ground. He clears the leaves of the slab with his boot. "We're getting close," he informs about Terminus.  
We'll head through the woods… we don't know who they are."

Rick leads us off the tracks and into the woods, where we come across a chain-link fence, covered in moss. A building is across the way, with big black letters painted across the top reading "**Terminus**." In other words, it's also a salvation.

"Split up," Rick demands. "Watch for a while, and see what we see. Get ready… and you all stay close." He looks down at Carl and raises his eyebrows. "You wanna stick with me?"

Carl doesn't even look up at his dad. "I'm going with Darby."

He follows behind me slowly, and I turn back and look at him. "Why didn't you go with Rick?" I ask, truly curious.

Carl shrugs.

"He saved you," I blurt. "If he didn't do it, we would be dead, Carl. You don't have to be afraid of him. Rick loves you, and he wouldn't ever hurt you. Just be nice to him, please, Carl. Seriously," I drawl, "you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I know from experience."

He stays quiet the rest of the way to the outside of the fence. _Something's wrong with that boy…_

I hold onto my bow as we sneak up into the building. Rick grabs hold of a door, and then quickly opens it, allowing my dad to enter first. We all come up behind him and walk into a room where a woman is speaking into a mic.

"Hello," I say, sticking my bow back on my back.

The woman looks up at me and takes her headphones off.

"Hello," I say again, looking out at a few people, who are working at tables.

"Well," a tall dark haired man says, "I bet Albert was on perimeter watch." He drops what he's doing and walks over to us. "You here to rob us?"

Rick steps forward and shakes his head. "No. We wanted to see you before you saw us." He puts his gun back into its holster and walks even closer to the man that greeted us.

The man smiles and looks back at his group. "Makes sense. But what about you?" he asks, looking directly at me, "Are _you_ into stealing things?" I shake my head and he laughs. "Usually we do this where the tracks meet… Welcome to Terminus," he holds his arms out, presenting the building around us, "I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit.

"We have," Rick replies dryly. "Rick," he introduces himself. "This is Carl, Darby, Daryl, and Michonne."

Gareth waves at us all. "You're nervous, I get it," he says, practically jumping forward, "We're all the same way. We came here for sanctuary… that's what you came here for?"

_No shit, dumbass. _

"Yes," Rick answers again.

Gareth leans in and smiles. "Good… you found it. Alex," he calls to man in the back. "You see, this isn't as pretty as the front, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer." He looks over at his pal and gives a nod. "Alex'll take you; ask you a few questions, but first we need to see everyone's weapons."

We all set our weapons on the ground.

Gareth looks at me and steps in front of me. "Are you sure that bow is all you have on you, BB?"

I wrinkle my nose and drop my knife to the ground, too. We aren't even here for five minutes, and already this creep has given me a nickname. BB… I'll BB him right upside the head.

One by one, we all get searched. It's uncomfortable, but then again it's apparently gotta be done. When we're all searched and checked out we get our weapons back. Alex gives us all our weapons, except for me, because Gareth felt the liberty to take it upon himself, and pick up my stuff for me.

"Follow me," Alex says with a smile. He guides us outdoors, where the smell of barbeque immediately makes my stomach rumble.

The adults talk amongst themselves with Alex, while I walk in the back of the group, not listening to a word they say. I, instead, admire the place around me. There's flowers and tables set up, which no one are sitting at… weird.

"Hi," a woman by a table greets us. "Heard you came in the back door, smart. You'll fit right in here." she flips a piece of meat on the grill and looks over at Alex.

I look around at the tables, and in the empty courtyard. Nobody… not a single soul. Not one that I know, anyway.

"Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate?" the overly friendly man asks.

The woman sets some meat onto a plate and hands it to me. "Thanks," I say, excepting her plate. The meat on the plate looks… weird. It looks like meat, but not any kind that I've ever seen in my life.

Rick walks ahead and slaps a plate of food out of Alex's hand and reaches into his pocket. He immediately brings the man into a chokehold, and puts his gun to his temple. I throw my plate to the ground, too, and ready my bow. "Where'd you get this watch?" he growls.

**To be continued…**


	17. No going back Pt 2

Rick walks ahead and slaps a plate of food out of Alex's hand and reaches into his pocket. He immediately brings the man into a chokehold, and puts his gun to his temple. I throw my plate to the ground, too, and ready my bow. "Where'd you get this watch?" he growls.

* * *

Before we know it, the people of Terminus have their guns on us, ready to fire. Rick doesn't care, though, he continues holding Alex at gunpoint, demanding answers.

After a moment of silence, Rick asks again, "Where the hell did you get the watch!?"

"You want answers?" Alex chokes out, "You want anything else? You get them when you put down the gun!"

I look around us. Just when I though the security on the ground was bad, I notice the man on the roof, holding onto a sniper, and aiming straight at Rick. I turn my attention back towards Rick and Alex. I don't like where things are headed…

Rick looks up at the roof, too. "I see your man on the roof; the sniper rifle. How good's his aim? Where'd you get the watch?"

Alex looks up at the sniper on the roof and tries to shake his head. "Don't do anything! Put it down, you put it down!" The man on the roof drops his rifle and Alex goes back to talking: "Now, you wanna listen to me: there's lots of us."

"Where did you get the watch?" Rick is persistent.

"Got it off of a dead one. I didn't think he'd need it anymore."

"The riot gear," Rick continues ranting, "the poncho!?"

As he names off the things that each of the Terminus residents have on, I begin to realize that Rick is right. The things they have on are stolen, and they belonged to us. You can't get riot gear without going to a prison, and that poncho… that poncho is my dad's.

I watch as Gareth steps in towards Rick, smiling. "Got the riot gear off a dead cop, and we found the poncho on a clothes line."

"Gareth, we can wait," Alex calls out.

"Shut up, Alex," Gareth orders.

Rick looks at Gareth with hatred in his eyes. "You talk to me!"

"Well, what's there left to say?" Gareth asks, stepping over in my direction. "You don't trust us anymore." He looks at me for a brief moment and then back at Alex, who addresses him. "Shut up, Alex," he orders once again.

"Gareth…" Alex breaths, "Please…"

"It's okay," Gareth raises his hand. "Rick, what do you want?"

Rick keeps his grip on his gun. "Where are our people!?"

"You didn't answer the question…"

Somewhere a shot rings out, and Alex falls down. _That easily could have been Rick. _We begin to scatter a bit, after Rick fires a few shots, then we push down an alleyway. Straight ahead of us, bullets hit the ground quick, so there's no way out. My dad leads us another way, where even more shots are being fired at us. We head into a garage, almost making it out, but it's too late. Someone's closed us in. They close us in on the other side, too, so we run towards a doorway marked with the letter A. My dad leads us into another alley, where there are more shots being fired towards us. As we run, I look outside of the fence and notice something that looks like bones… bloody bones…

We end up in a room filled with candles. Candles on stands; candles on the ground; candles everywhere. The walls are marked with words.

**NEVER AGAIN**

**NEVER TRUST**

**WE FIRST, ALWAYS.**

"The hell is this place?" my dad asks, taking a spot next to me.

My dad pretty much had the answer in his question… this place _is __**hell. **_

Michonne lowers her katana. "These people… I don't think they're trying to kill us."

I shake my head. "You're right. They were aiming for our feet."

"There!" Rick points at an ajar doorway, which is immediately closed.

I'm scared now… it's like we might actually be stuck here forever… and the meat… is that what we'll become in the end?

"Here!" my dad points at another doorway, marked with another A, and we run towards it.

We're outside again, where more people on the roof shoot at our feet. They line the fences, so it's impossible to get out. We're really stuck here now.

"Drop your weapons! Now," one of the security yell. We all look at each other, as if there's nothing wrong. "Now!" the same voice repeats. We all drop our weapons together on the hard ground and look up at the voice. Of course, it's fucking Gareth. "Ring leader, go to your left! The train car, go!"

We all look at the big red train car, with an A painted on it. Why the hell do these people like A? I would've chosen X, or Z, or any other letter in the alphabet besides A.

"You do what we say," Gareth pipes up again, "the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you go in there anyway."

Rick looks up at the leader of Terminus, then nods at Carl. He walks towards the car alone, and still looks up at Gareth. There's a grudge in place for sure.

"Now the archer!"

My dad looks up and scowls. He doesn't say anything like I thought he would, but he just walks towards the car, silent.

"Now the samurai!"

Michonne gives me a quick look and then goes off to take her place as well.

Gareth stares down at me and Carl but doesn't say anything. It's quiet for a while, until he speaks again: "Stand at the door: Ring leader, archer, samurai… in that order."

I try to stay calm, and just breathe, but it's hard. Why are me and Carl the only ones left? Please don't tell me these people are rapists, too, because there's a lot more of them than there were of the claimers…

"My son!" Rick yells out, staring at Carl.

"Go on, kid," Gareth says to Carl.

What about me? Why does he get to go and not me!? I stare over at the lined up group and wait. My dad stares right back at me. His eyes are telling me that everything is gonna be okay, but my gut is telling me that I'm the only one not going in the train car. Hopefully, my next destination isn't the chopping block and then the grill.

"Ring leader, open the door and go in!"

Rick looks over and shakes his head. "I'll go in when the girl comes over here."

Gareth stares down at me and makes eye contact. "Don't make us kill her now," he calls back to Rick.

I try to stand still and not piss my pants. For a second, I think about what I thought of before, when Beth asked me what this place was gonna be like. _Terrible! It'll_ _be absolutely terrible!_ _Death everywhere! Blood will rain from the sky and we'll all die in under a minute! _I was right. This place is terrible. There's no blood raining from the sky, but I could easily be the one dying in under a minute.

Rick stares over at me and gives me an apologetic look. I can only imagine what he's gonna say when I get in that car with him. How about: "I'm so sorry, Darby, I was gonna wait, but I didn't want him killing Carl." Yeah, that's pretty accurate. He walks up the steps, open the door, and walks in. Then my dad follows. And then Michonne and Carl.

I'm the only one left outside. The door to the car is still open, just waiting for me to enter. I look over at Gareth, who is now climbing down from his area. _Just shoot me, and make it easy for me. _I cower slightly when he nears, and close my heads, ready for the worst.

"I'm not going to kill you," he assures me, "but that doesn't mean try and get away either, because then I will kill you and throw you over the fence."

"Wow," I utter in an overly friendly sounding tone, "aren't you just the nicest guy in the world?"

Gareth stares at me for a while, biting his lip, and obviously trying not to laugh. "I'm coming back for you later," he whispers. "Tonight; at eleven. I'm gonna open that door, pulling you out, and we're gonna have a little chat."

I roll my eyes. "There a clock in that train car?"

"No, I suppose there isn't." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the same watch that Alex had, the one that once belonged to Glenn, and he opens it. "It's four-thirty now. I'll be there in," he pauses, counting the numbers in his head, "six and a half hours. Wait for me."

I look down at my shoes, trying to avoid seeing his face. This guy's got some nerve if he thinks that I'm just gonna roll with this.

"Any questions?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, looking back up, "how about we start with why you want to talk to me, and me only?"

Gareth smiles and gives me a gooey look. "I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

I don't say anything else. I just walk towards the train car, awaiting my imprisonment. I step up the stairs and glance in. I cannot believe it… everyone's here. Everyone! Maggie and Glenn, Sasha and Bob, and even a few people that I've never seen before in my life, although one girl looks familiar.

Rick is standing up, his face gleaming in the small light that the cracks give off. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out," he murmurs.

"Find out about what?" a mustached man, that looks like he could kill me with one punch, asks.

Rick looks around at everybody and everybody at him. "They're screwing with the wrong people."

Boy, is he right.

I take a seat next to the dark haired girl that looks really familiar and lean back against the wall. Only six and a half hours until I have to see our captors again… I'm always the one that has to go through stuff like this.


	18. Stock-something Syndrome

It's dark. No light at all. It's had to have been at least six hours. Since we got here, everyone's been talking and hugging and all that gooey stuff. I can admit, it was really nice to see everyone alive, too. Everyone except Carol, Tyreese, Judith, Lizzie, and Mika. I'd be happy if they just left Lizzie behind. No one's been awake for a while now. No one's awake, and I'm about to sneak out and talk the guy that forced us into this train car. Nice, Darby, _real _nice.

I wonder how long they're gonna keep up in this car. A few weeks? Months? Maybe years? I think I'd rather wrestle with a walker than stay in here for that long.

The slight clinking of rusted metal brings me out of my thinking state.

"BB?" our captor whispers into the car. "You awake in there?"

I silently crawl to the opening of the door and nod. "Yeah. What the hell do you want?"

Gareth looks into the car, checking to see if anyone around us is awake. "We can't talk here. Come out here with me."

"Why should I?"

"I have food," he bribes.

I look out at him and sigh. If it gets me out of a hot box that looks like shit and smells like piss, then I'm game for anything, excluding death. I silently sneak out of the box, making my way down the wooden steps as he closes the door behind us.

Gareth is holding onto an oil lamp with one hand and holding out the other towards me. "Come on, I'm not gonna hurt you. I swear on Alex's grave." _Too soon, man, too soon. _"There's nothing funny going on, either. Just take my hand and we'll talk."

"Fine," is all I say, in a hushed voice. I grab onto his hand and he begins walking back towards the building that we tried to escape from hours earlier. "So what exactly did you want to talk to me about?"

"Hold on," he utters, pushing a key into the door in front of us. After a soft clicking sound, Gareth pushes open the door.

We didn't come across this part of the building when we tried to escape. The other rooms were made to look creepy, but this one was obviously made for the crew of Terminus. It's almost like a meeting room; there's chairs set up so that they're in a perfect half-circle, and there's a chalkboard set right in the middle, probably so they can plan on how they want to kill us all in different ways.

Gareth sets his lamp down on the ground, giving off only a small bit of light for the big room that we're in. He takes a seat in a chair and smiles up at me. "Gonna sit down?"

"Absolutely not," I respond straight faced. "You tell me why I'm here. Right _now._"

Gareth chuckles. "Why you're here?" he reprises, "You're here because you're different. You're probably thinking I'm crazy, but I'm right. They're gonna end up dying and you're gonna be left alone. Is that what you want?"

I look at him and cock a brow. "I don't think that's gonna happen."

"Why not?"

I wanna punch this guy in the face. He just smiles at every single thing… it's almost like he _wants _me to hit him. He continues staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

"I don't think that's gonna happen, because when my dad and Rick get out of there, they're gonna kill you in the most painful way ever. You don't even know, like, you're gonna be in so much pain. And, in the end, I'm gonna smile when I watch them throw your dead body over the fence, just because I'm fucked up like that." I smile down at him as soon as his smile fades.

He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "You're just upset and agitated, because you haven't eaten anything in a while. Here," he says, reaching into his coat pocket, "I've got a protein bar, you can have that."

He tosses the bar towards me, but I just let it fall to the ground. "I don't want it. Just last night, I watched Rick _bite _out some guy's throat, which was probably the most brutal thing that I've ever seen in my whole entire life. So, think about it, do you really think I feel like eating anything?" I take a seat in a chair across from him and cross my arms. Maybe he'll feel intimidated and let us go, because I'm pretty sure he won't want to get his throat ripped out, too. I could totally do it myself right now, but I don't like the taste of blood… such a shame.

"Okay, well, you don't _have_ to eat it. Is there anything that'll put you in a better mood?"

"Yeah, I'll be pretty damn happy if you die."

"You don't mean that," he says in a serious tone. "I know you don't. You know, I saw the way you were looking at me when you first got here. I mean, I saw you, too, and I thought that you would be a good person to have around and maybe get to know a little better."

I can't even look at him. I can feel my face get red as I stare down at my shoes. Did this guy, who's like thirty, just say that he maybe wanted to get to know me better? I think I know what he _really_ means by that. What he really means is, _yeah, you're an attractive kid and I would definitely like to seduce you and totally not even get to know you at all. _

"BB," Gareth continues, "are you gonna eat, or not?"

I look down at the protein bar sitting on the ground next to me. It's just sitting there… waiting to be eaten. _I'm a bitch to my people if I eat it, but I'd be a bitch to Gareth if I didn't. _Screw it. I reach down and grab the bar from the floor and immediately rip it open. It kinda tastes like cardboard, but I continue eating it anyway.

"Good," Gareth is smiling again, "you'll feel a lot better now."

His smile creeps me out. I glance down at the wrapper and then back up at him. "You didn't rufie that protein bar, did you?"

Gareth's smile fades away again. "Why would I drug you?"

"To take advantage? You know, they call it the date rape drug for a reason…" Gareth cocks his head and blinks, as if he doesn't know what I'm talking about. I roll my eyes. "A guy slips a girl a rufie so they can-"

"I know what rufies are used for," he quickly interrupts. "I gave you the bar, because I thought you were hungry… I didn't drug it, or anything like that. Why you so worried about getting taken advantage of?"

Just as he finishes asking, the two spots in my mouth, where my teeth got knocked out, start to hurt and my eyes start to water. I'm thinking about last night again when Billy tried to… whatever.

I look up at him and bite my lip, trying not to show him that I'm upset. "I'm just worried about it because someone's tried before and I almost didn't make it out of that time. I know for a fact, I wouldn't make it if you were to drug me."

"Well, I didn't," he assures. "I didn't and I wouldn't."

I want to thank him, but then something suddenly jolts my mind. "Why are you being so nice? You captured us, forced us into a crate, and then all of a sudden you're being nice, what gives?"

"I told you," Gareth huffs, sounding annoyed. "You're different. You might not see it now, but you will. Right now you just don't want to admit to yourself that you may or may not be falling for the bad guy, and I get that." He leans forward towards me and smiles. "Either way, this _bad guy_ is still gonna treat you better than the others."

_I'm not attracted to this crazy fool. __**I'm not**__. _

I don't know what to say anymore. His little "crush" just makes everything weird. "You know I'm only seventeen, right? And that's, like, _newly _seventeen. The relationship idea isn't even legal, so I'd just drop it."

Gareth is smiling like a fool again. He chuckles and shakes his head. "There's so much wrong with what you just said. First, I didn't think you knew what the date was, so how do you know when your birthday was? And, I'm pretty sure there isn't such a thing as "legal" and "illegal," so I don't think anyone's gonna stop me from doing what I want."

"You're right about both; I don't know the date and there isn't such a thing called the law anymore."

"Well," he says, standing up from his seat, "Today's November twenty-ninth, so whenever you're birthday was, you'll know if you're right about your age or not."

_Damn, I was right_.

"I was right," I confirm. "My birthday was the eleventh."

Gareth raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes. "T-that's my birthday, too! I just turned twenty-six."

_Really, only nine years older? At least I'm not like my dad and Beth, who were almost twenty-five years apart… sick. _

"You just turned twenty-six and you're smitten over a seventeen-year-old… I just may have to tell my father," I torment. Wait… why am I teasing this guy about that? Of course I should tell my father about this! I actually should've said no to coming out with him and woken up my group when I had the chance.

Gareth studies me for a minute and then shakes his head. "For some reason, I really don't think you're gonna tell anyone about this," he murmurs. "You didn't tell anyone about coming out here to talk to me, so, why would you tell them about us?"

"There's no _us,_" I object, pushing passed him. "Just, forget about what I said, and take me back to the train car."

Gareth shrugs and opens the door to the outside. We don't really say anything on the way back, besides him saying goodnight, before opening the train car and helping me inside. I know for certain that I'm not gonna tell anyone about this. It'll cause too much drama between the group, and I'll probably get in trouble for mistakenly leading on the bad guy. That's exactly why I'm gonna shut up and keep up with Gareth's little game until he trusts me enough to keep me out of the car so I can backlash on him. The rate he's going, it won't take long either. I just have to keep playing the game myself. I gotta pretend that I've got that thing that the people get when they fall for their captors… what is it, Stock-something Syndrome?


	19. Connected

It's been about four days since we've been stuffed into the train car. It's also been four days since I've personally spoken to Gareth, not including yesterday when he threw us our dinner, which is just his group's scraps, and called me a "little bitch that needed to learn some manners." I'm just glad that nobody knows about our late night chat.

I'm not really the kind of person that likes keeping secrets, so I'm surprised I haven't told anybody about Gareth's fascination with me yet. It's not like anyone would listen, though. Ever since we've been here, Rick has been nonstop planning on how he's gonna get us out of here alive. If only he knew I had a plan of my own…

There was actually one specific plan that I thought would work until I thought about it a little bit. Rick came up with the idea late last night. I was half asleep, but I forced myself to stay awake just to hear what he had to say. He said it would be a good idea to wait for Gareth to open up the train car door and then take him down all together. The only thing wrong with that plan is, well, what the hell are we gonna do after that? It's not like we can just walk out of here all together and not get caught by one of the people that live here…

This morning, Rick is talking again. He's playing the part of a leader once again. Hopefully nothing happens to make him lose it again.

Rick's pacing back and forth in front of all of us. "We're going to get out of here. We'll kill each and every one of them until we're out. I swear to it…"

Carl looks up at his dad and rolls his eyes. "How are we going to kill them without weapons?"

"What?" Rick looks confused.

"Weapons," Carl repeats himself, "I think we're gonna need them to get out of here, you know?" his tone is snottier than usual, probably because of Rick's slight senselessness.

Rick still looks confused. It's like he's hearing Carl speak a whole other language. "We don't _need _weapons to escape. We just need to think about this."

Wow… maybe Rick's already lost it.

"Think?" Carl stands up and takes a step towards his dad. "We're stuck in here. There's no way we're getting out of here without weapons and a bigger group. Maybe someone else should think of a better plan; someone who isn't so ignorant."

I shake my head at this. It's funny… Carl doesn't even realize that _he's_ the ignorant one. He apparently doesn't understand that his dad is doing this to save him. Maybe one day he'll understand when daddy isn't around to help him out.

Rick looks down, as if finally understanding that he sounds a little rash. He doesn't speak anymore. He takes a seat next to the girl that looked so familiar to me when we first got here, whose name turned out to be Tara.

Carl continues standing and looks down at the rest us, lined up against the cold, hard wall. "Anyone?" he raises his eyebrows, looking at each individual person on the wall. "Whatever," he huffs, walking over to the corner to sit by himself.

I lean my head against the wall. Now that Rick's silent, we're all going to be silent.

The clattering noise of the door opening makes Rosita, one of the new people, who's next to me, jump. Time for more scraps… yay.

In the light, I can see Gareth glance into the car and look around at us all. Instead of throwing in the food as usual, he steps in all the way and clasps his hands together.

"Sorry to bug you busy folks, but we're here to get someone," he states flatly. His eyes move down the line of people and stop at me. "We're not going to kill anyone. We just need to, uh, interrogate them. And we start with the weakest."

Well… he's a douchebag.

Rick glances up at Gareth and blinks. "Just who is the _weakest_?"

Gareth looks over at him and gives the man a cocky smile. "Don't worry about it, ring leader, because it isn't you." he glances over at me and grins even wider. "It's her," he points a finger at me and starts walking my way.

Rosita grabs onto my wrist and shakes her head at him. "You're wrong; she can't count as being the weakest, she's just a kid."

"Looks like an adult to me," Gareth shrugs, "that means she's coming with me."

I scowl up at him. "I'm not going."

Gareth sticks out his bottom in a sardonic manner. "Aw… you don't want to go, huh? Well that sucks, because I'll cut your ear off in front of your friends and take you by force."

"She said she ain't going," my dad says, standing up. "You want someone, then take me."

"Seriously?" Gareth pulls a knife out and reaches down, grabbing me by the arm. He forcibly pulls me up to my feet, wraps his arm around me, and puts the sharp blade up to my neck. "Just sit down, old man, because I'll kill her if you don't."

My dad looks over at me and sighs. "You better bring her back alive, or I'll kill _you._"

"Wonderful," Gareth smiles, "don't worry, sir, I'll have her back by seven. Don't wait up now!"

I try not to fall down as he pulls me out of the car and closes the door behind us.

"Interrogation?" I ask, pulling away from him. "Are you really that fucking stupid?"

He looks down at me and rolls his eyes. "I needed a reason to pull you out of there."

I grit my teeth and desperately try not to punch him in the face. "You threatened to kill me in front of my fucking _dad_!"

"Jeez, you swear too much," he murmurs in a childish voice, pulling us along once again. "I thought the ring leader was your dad."

_Ha! _Wouldn't that be funny…?

"No, my dad's the archer."

Instead of going back into the same room that we were in last time, he continues walking and dragging me along with him. We go through the room with the creepy candles and I realize that the words that are on the ground are names.

I tug on Gareth's arm and point at the ground. "Who are these people?"

He looks at the names printed on the ground and clicks his tongue. "That's something you don't need to know about yet."

He tugs us through the room again, into an alleyway, and into the garage that my group and I tried to escape out of days ago.

As he lifts the garage door, I back away. "People are gonna see me," I warn.

"No one's going to see you, because they're in the map room like they should be. Besides, it doesn't matter what I do; I'm the boss around here."

I sigh and reluctantly walk out of the garage with him. Just in case anyone is around, he links onto my arm hard and acts as if he doesn't even care about how much it hurts. As soon as we reach the area with the grill and the tables, he looks around and releases my arm when he knows the coast is clear.

"Sorry about all that," Gareth takes a seat at the table next to us, "I didn't mean to scare you, or scare your family, but I can't just go in there and be all nice; it just wouldn't look right."

"It doesn't look right anyway, but whatever," I claim, taking a seat next to him. "What's going on today, like, why am I out here?"

Gareth taps his fingers on the wooden table and sniffles. "Thought you might like being outside of the box."

I nod, acting as though I understand his motive of bringing me out here, even though I really don't. "Alright. I know I've asked you this a few times already, but answer this honestly: _why _did you choose me out of everyone else in that train car? There's a whole selection of girls in that car that you could've picked, but you choose me?"

Gareth shakes his head. "Those girls aren't _you_. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you are different, Darby. Yeah those girls might be great, but they aren't the ones that I feel a connection with. Is that weird?"

Whoa… he used my full name.

He places his hand on the table towards me and smiles, a true genuine smile way different from the ones he uses to mock me and the group with.

I thought about it the first day he brought me out to talk. I could get on his good side until he trusts me and then I could backlash. I could easily fuck this guy over… and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I try and give him the best smile that I can and place my hand on top of his. "That's definitely not weird."

Before I know it, he leans in, expecting a kiss.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…_

"Gareth!" someone calls out from behind us, "We've got another one!"

Gareth stops dead in his tracks and glowers. "Albert… I'm a little busy here."

"Sorry, man, but there's another girl here… and she's a feisty one," Albert continues.

"Just a second," Gareth whispers to me. He stands up and walks towards his friend.

I turn around, looking to see what the fuss is about. The man, Albert, is holding onto someone. It's a blonde girl, and he's right, she is feisty. She's kicking and squirming for her life, desperately trying to get out of the much stronger man's grip.

Gareth nods and smiles at the struggling girl. "What's your name, blondie?"

The girl stops moving and looks up at him. I can't believe it… I can't fucking believe it.

I stand up and walk towards Gareth and my thoughts are confirmed. I look over at Gareth and smile. "Her name is Beth."


	20. Mistake

"Her name is Beth?" Gareth glances over at me and cocks a brow. "You know this girl?"

Uh-oh… should I have said that?

I look over at Gareth and force myself to nod. "We were together before, but then… she went missing."

I stare up the scraggly blonde girl in front of me. It definitely looks like she's been through hell. Her clothes are different from when I last saw her; they're a lot bigger, as if they used to belong to a man. Her hair is up in its usual ponytail, but somehow looks messier than usual. It kind've looks like she crawled through a thorn bush…

"So," Albert cuts back in, "should I take this one to the train car with the others?"

"Others?" Beth inhales and looks like she wants to smile, if she even remembers how to do that, anyway.

Gareth shrugs. "I guess you all thought about coming to this place. Not a problem," he extends his arms presenting the place around him like he did to the rest of the group in the beginning, "there's plenty of room in the train car. Actually, take them both."

Albert latches onto Beth again. Starting to pull her down the alleyway, he stops. "You want me to take both of the girls, or just the blonde one?"

"_**Both**_. Learn to listen, dammit," Gareth shoots back. He leans in towards his buddy, lining up his mouth with Albert's ear to whisper something, and then he turns and heads into the map building, leaving the rest of us outside.

Beth is staring at me now. Her eyes tell me that she knows something she shouldn't, and I wonder if she heard what Gareth told to Albert; I also wonder if it was something about me…

Albert pulls Beth along again. "Jesus," he grumbles, "could you put up more of a fight?"

Beth ignores him and keeps wriggling around in his grip like a fish.

By the time we make it into the empty garage, Albert's lifted Beth up and over his shoulder, instead of just dragging her along. If the idiot would utilize his gun, maybe she wouldn't be such a pain in the ass to bring back to the train car, but I digress.

We walk up the makeshift stairs attached to the train car and wait for Albert to open it up. He pulls back the door in one good drag and literally tosses Beth in; I soon follow behind her.

My dad sits across from the door, and gets up as soon as he sees the blonde girl on the floor. "What in the hell?" Dad walks forward, stunned. "B-Beth?" he breathes. "Is that Beth?"

"What!?" I can hear Maggie gasp from the back. She stomps forward fast, and I'm pretty sure she stepped on somebody, because someone said ouch; not that she cares at the moment or anything.

Dad helps Beth up off the ground and steps back. "Holy shit…"

Maggie stands stationary. She and Beth are staring at each other, as if one was a mirror and the other was looking into it. They stay like that for a few seconds until Maggie leaps forward and forces her little sister in a bear hug. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought I was dead, too," Beth confesses. "They were _**not**_ nice people…"

"What?" Maggie lets go of her sister and cocks a brow. "What're you talking about? Who… who weren't nice people?"

Beth backs away into the corner and slides down the wall. Tears stream down her face as everyone gathers around her. She shares a glance with at least everyone and then shakes her head. "She said, it was for the greater good. She said, I was supposed to be a part of the system, that's all…"

_What the fuck? _

I look over at my dad and frown. He's thinking the same thing that I am. He's thinking, if he hadn't opened that door at the funeral home, then maybe Beth wouldn't have gone through whatever it was that she did. Why didn't I do something? I could've stopped her from going into the road… I could've saved her from it all if I wasn't so fucking stupid.

"Beth," Maggie gets down on her knees in front of her sister and grabs onto her hand, which Beth immediately pulls away, "Beth, _please_. I'm your sister and you can tell me anything in the world. I won't judge you."

Beth looks up at Maggie with wide eyes. "There was a woman and a man. The man was… he was a priest. There was a hospital… that's where they brought me. They told me I was gonna be next."

"Next for what?" my dad asks.

"No," Beth whispers. "It wasn't right. They strapped them to a table… gave them shots… let them _suffer_."

Maggie takes a seat next to Beth on the ground and sighs. "Can you guys just give her some space? We'll try again later."

Everyone retreats into the back of the car as they were before and just sit in silence.

Carl is sitting across from me. He looks angry, but then again, he's always angry at something so it's nothing new. He turns his head and pats the ground beside him, indicating me to come and take a seat next to him.

I crawl across the ground and sit in the open seat next to him. "What's going on with you?" I ask in a hushed whisper.

He looks around us at everyone real quick, and leans in. "It's getting a little suspicious, you know."

"What is?"

He gives me a slight smile, but then quickly wipes it away. "_You _are… you and _him, _I mean."

A sudden rush of panic flashes over me. "What're you talking about?"

Carl rolls his eyes. "You think I'm an idiot, or something, but you're wrong. I know what's going on. That guy has only been talking to _you _and nobody else since we've been here."

"He's only spoken to me once, Carl…"

"You're lying," he rebuffs. "When we first got here he talked to you, and you only. You've also been staying up all night; if that isn't weird, than I don't know what is."

"So, I can't sleep at night? It's kind've hard to in here," I lie.

He rolls his eyes again at me and gives a look of annoyance. "I guess you're the idiot out of the two of us."

"Excuse me?"

Carl looks around us again, making sure no one is around. "I know you snuck out to see him one time. You were gone for, like, half an hour. When you came back you were all smiley and snickering. Don't tell me that you weren't, because I saw you. _I _saw you, and if you don't tell me the truth, I'll tell my dad that you snuck out with him."

My fingers shake against the cold, metal ground. I'm actually a _little_ scared right now. This douchebag sitting beside me, the same one that I once called family, is threatening me into telling him something that isn't true.

I click my tongue and shrug. If I'm gonna go down, I'm going down with at least a little formality. "You got me," I misleadingly state. "I snuck out that night, and you saw me do it. I'm not gonna lie to you, I _did _sneak out with Gareth. But, just because I did, doesn't mean you have to tyrannize me for it, because it is _**none **_of your fucking business. Go ahead, go tell your daddy on me; it's all you know how to do, anyway."

"Thought so," Carl snorts. He stands up, then gives me one last look before walking over to where his dad and my dad are sitting together.

Rick looks up at him. "What's going on, son?"

Carl leers deviously. "There's something going on that I think you should know about."

"Is it _that _important?" his dad asks, furrowing a brow.

Carl confirms Rick's question with a nod. "Darby's been sneaking out at night."

Both Rick, and my dad turn their heads towards me and then look back up at Carl. He doesn't even realize how stupid he just sounded…

"Now, that ain't possible," dad claims. "Rick, this car's getting to that kid's head."

"I'm telling the truth," Carl defends himself. "I've seen her sneak out. The first night we were here, she snuck out with the guy that put us in here."

Rick is looking at me once again, but speaks to his son. "Did she tell you this?"

Before I can hear Carl's answer, I turn my head away and look at the wall across from me. Did I just make a mistake?


	21. No daughter of mine

"You better be fucking _kidding_! Why the fuck would _my _daughter sneak out at night with that asshole out there!? He's a liar, he's a _**liar**_!" my dad yells, pointing over at Carl.

"Daryl," Rick raises his eyebrows, "if he saw-"

My dad slams his fist against the cold, hard car. "He didn't see _shit_; it was dark."

Rick sighs. He sighs every single time that my dad's voice gets loud, or he gets physical. If only Rick would fucking _listen. _

Carl is standing next to me, glancing over at me repeatedly. I'm not gonna lie, I could kick his ass right here, right now, for what he did. He didn't even have a reason, just… pure bullshit.

"I told you, Daryl, and I'll tell you again: Carl _saw _her leave the car with Gareth; End of story," Rick advises. He looks down for a brief second, but then snaps his head back up. "You know what, why don't you find out from your daughter yourself then? I'm sure she's willing to tell you the truth."

Dad looks over at him and nods. "Yeah… I'll do that then. Go on, girl," he urges. "Tell us the truth."

I gulp seeing my dad's intimidating stare. He wants to know the truth. How am I supposed to lie to the man that raised me from birth? I can't. That's it; I can't lie to him.

"D-dad… I, uh… I snuck out that night," I admit. "It wasn't planned or anything…" lies. "Gareth just opened the door and told me to come out, and I didn't want to get hurt, so I-"

"You snuck out..." my dad repeats. "You snuck out with the man that stuck us in this car. What the fuck were you thinking, Darby!? You just thought it would be a pleasant fucking idea to just walk out of here with that guy!? He could be some kind of fucking sicko and… and… and he could've assaulted you, or worse!"

"No," I shake my head, "no, he's not like that. He ain't that kind've person that would do that, honestly."

My dad freezes in his tracks. "He ain't that kind've person?" he huffs. "You know him enough that you can really be the judge of that?" I give a slight nod and he rolls his eyes. "I can't believe you," he says, covering his eyes up with his hands. "You like this fucker, or something!?"

"No!" I snap.

Dad raises his upper lip like he's disgusted and slams himself against the wall. "You know what, fuck it. When he comes back you might as well go with him. I don't even want to see you right now. No daughter of mine does that shit…" he turns away, facing the wall and doesn't look back at me again.

I can tell that Carl is smiling next to me. He won this one. He got what he wanted, whatever that was, apparently. I hope he knows I'm done with him after this.

I walk towards the corner of the car where nobody is sitting. I can't even face anybody right now. I'm sure they're just as ashamed as my dad is.

I do the same thing that my dad does, and ball myself up into a small ball into my corner. I'm desperately trying to make myself disappear in case nobody knew… unfortunately it doesn't work so well.

A large banging sound on the outside of the car makes me squirm. Maybe I'm leaving sooner than I thought… The door opens in one good swing and sunlight pours into the tin box that we're encased in like sardines.

"Hey!" a voice shouts into the car, "I can hear screaming and banging from a mile away, and it better stop, or else someone's skull is getting cracked!" I can tell by the hoarseness of the voice that it belongs to Albert. He probably heard my dad, he was definitely the loudest.

"Well, Darby," my dad grumbles from his side of the car, "This is your chance… you wanna be with the people that are apparently better than us, and worth keeping a secret for, then go right ahead. The door's open."

Albert steps into the car and looks over at me in the corner. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Oh, she hasn't gotten to know _you_ yet?" my dad sarcastically asks. "Don't worry, because I'm sure she will in no time. That is if you're close to what's-his-face out there."

Albert shakes his head and squints. "_What?_ Are you fucking crazy?"

"No, but my daughter is," dad quips.

After staring him down for a minute, Albert switches his glance from my dad to me. "You," he points his Glock 19 at me and waves it upwards, "get up."

I slowly stand up, never breaking eye contact with my father across the way. He's mad; I get that. I guess I'd be mad too if someone in my family snuck out with the bad guy and didn't say anything about it until some random asshole just decided to expose it for his own benefit. I just might be a little mad at myself for it.

My dad looks away from me and sulks. "I'm gonna kill him," he grumbles. "When I get out of this cage, I'm gonna find him and I'm gonna kill him."

"Shut up, or I'll shoot her in the head," Albert warns.

Dad looks at him with fractious eyes. "No, you won't."

"What was that, old man!?" Albert leans in, pretending he didn't hear what my dad heard. He takes a step back towards me and aims his gun straight at my forehead. "I beg to differ. I'll fucking kill her, then, just for kicks, I'll kill you, too. You _really_ want your pretty little daughter to die right in front of you?"

Dad grits his teeth. He's on the verge of standing up and murdering Albert with his bare hands now. "I said, you ain't gonna pull that fucking trigger. You won't, because if you do… I'll cut your fucking throat and pull your tongue through the hole."

In under a second, I'm pulled from my spot and held at gun point directly in front of my dad. Albert's hand covers my mouth, so it's impossible to say anything, such as an anxious plea. He levels the gun up with my temple and exhales deeply.

"You were saying?" Albert asks in a smug tone.

My dad bites his bottom lip and clenches his fists tightly. "I swear to god…"

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Albert has his finger on the trigger, just waiting to use my dad's ire as an excuse to kill me.

"What the fuck is going on here!?" I look over towards the open entrance of the car to see Gareth walking towards us. He looks pissed, just like everyone else here. _Join the club, Gareth. _

Albert releases his hand from my mouth and shakes his head. "I… was just teaching them a lesson."

"By shoving a gun in the girl's face!?" Gareth shoves Albert with one hand and snatches his gun from his hand. "This right here, isn't something to toy with," he says, dangling the Glock in Albert's face. "You know what happens when you pull the trigger? You _shoot _someone. And, you know what happens when you shoot someone?" Albert shakes his head. "_You _personally get shot by _me_. Understand?"

Albert opens his mouth, but doesn't speak. Instead, he nods and sticks his hands in the air like he's under arrest.

"Do me a favor," Gareth utters, shoving the Glock into Albert's chest, "take this and get the hell out of here."

"Y-yeah, sure, man." Albert gets a hold of the gun and rushes out of the car in no time.

Gareth groans. "What is the big deal in here?"

My dad stands up and gets face-to-face with Gareth. "That dirtbag threatened to kill my daughter. I bet that would piss you off, eh?"

Gareth backs up and blinks. "You know… and you're mad about it; which is okay, because everyone would be angry in this situation."

"Quit your bullshit," my dad growls. "Why are you and my daughter sneaking around together, huh? Can you tell me that one, _Garett_?"

"Okay," Gareth breathes. "First, my name is Gareth, got it? _Gareth. _And second, yes. You're daughter and I have snuck around, but let me mind you, it has only been one time. There's no need to be upset over it."

"Oh, but there fucking is. I can't even fucking look at you, it's pathetic." Dad looks away and shakes his head. "You might as well leave. Leave and since you feel like you have to sneak around, take my daughter with you. I can't even look at her the same way either."

Gareth looks over at me and then at my dad. "Did you just tell me to leave, because I'm pretty sure that I'm the boss around here, but now that you've mentioned it… I'll just go and take your daughter with me if you're so afraid of "sneaking around," he says, rolling his eyes.

I look over at my dad again, my eyes wide from shock. "Dad, you've gotta be kidding."

"Just go, Darby," he urges without even looking at me. "I wouldn't want to burden you with sneaking out any more."

I'm done. I don't plead or speak anymore. Instead, I move towards the door and don't look back.

Gareth slides the door shut and gives me a sympathetic look. "You can stay with me, I guess. Don't worry, he'll be asking for you again in a flash."

I shake my head and look down. "You heard him; he doesn't wanna see me. He despises me."

"He's your dad," he informs, helping me down from the steps. "You know he doesn't hate you. He's just… mad right now, because he didn't expect to hear what you had to say."

"I didn't say shit, Carl did."

"Who?"

"The fucking kid that wears the sheriff's hat. He told his dad _and _my dad for no reason at all. He thinks that he's just gonna get an award for every little thing that he tells his daddy. I'm surprised no one's kicked the shit out of him yet." I throw myself into the seat at the nearest table by the grill and put my head down. "I wish I could kiss ass as good as him."

Gareth takes a seat next to me and pats my back. "I knew a guy like that once. He just thought he was some sort of god, like he could survive anything."

"Yeah, and what happened to that guy?"

Gareth clicks his tongue. "I shot him in the head with a shotgun."

I look up from the table and blink. "That was one way to prove him wrong, I guess…"

"I didn't do it to prove anything; I did it because he was bit," he informs sternly. " You see, he thought it didn't matter. He thought cutting off his own arm would've saved him, but it didn't."

"Who was this guy?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"He was my brother."


	22. He's mine

After a long chat with Gareth about his family, who _all _died by his hand, I've discovered that this little plan of mine is going to take a lot less time to come together than I thought it would. According to Gareth, he had never told anyone about how his family died until I came along. That counts as trust, right?

When the sun starts to go down, everyone who's off guard duty goes inside and the people who were inside go outside to patrol the gates in their place. Gareth and I are two of the few who just _have _to patrol the gates for "safety purposes". It's going to be a long night.

There's seven of us in all. Five guys and two girls. Gareth introduces everyone to me before we leave for duty. He introduces the guys first.

There's Alan, the only guy in the group with glasses and a lumberjack beard. Then there's Brody and Bryce, they're twins. And the last guy, Cooper, is the one that usually leads the guards, except not today since Gareth is here. The only other girl in the group is Kendra; she's at least in her late twenties, with dark blonde hair and a poncho that used to belong to my father… awkward.

"Where's Zach?" Cooper asks, looking around the area for another person. "Isn't he supposed to be here, too?"

Kendra nods. "He'll be here in a minute, he's doing something inside. We can go, I'm sure he'll catch up," she murmurs in a bitchy tone. I don't like her already. Her eyes wander over towards me and she smiles. "New girl, huh?"

"Yeah," I say with a nod.

"What's your name?" the nosy blonde asks, adjusting her, er, my dad's poncho on her shoulders.

"Her name's Darby," Gareth cuts in. "You know the girl I told you about? This is her."

Kendra's smile fades into a scowl. "This is _her?_"

Gareth nods. "Yeah. So what?"

"Nothing." Kendra shrugs. "She just seems a little… young."

Gareth rolls his eyes, ignoring her statement, and walks to the front of the group where Cooper is busy guiding us to where we're supposed to circuit first.

"It might just be me, but you kind've look like you're twelve," Kendra continues. "How old are you, for real?"

I look over at her through the corner of my eye. "Seventeen."

"Wow," she exaggerates, "you _are _just a baby."

I spin towards her and cross my arms. "Lady, what're you getting at here?"

Everyone in front of us gets further and further away as the blonde oppressor and I stick behind in the same place.

"I'm just getting at the fact that you're a teenager and you have a thing with Gareth."

I narrow my eyes at the bimbo in front of me. She can't be serious right now. "I don't have a thing with Gareth."

"I know you do," Kendra persists, taking one step too close to me. "I'm gonna say this one time, and only one time; He. Is. Mine."

Well, if things weren't awkward enough…

I bite my lip, desperately trying not to laugh in this idiot's face. "You can have him."

Kendra's brow furrows. She looks around us, making sure no one is around to see anything. When she knows that the coast is clear, she leans forward. "I'm serious. If I catch you and Gareth getting just a _little _too cozy, I'll cut your fingers off."

I mockingly smile at her and hold up my right hand. "See this?" I wiggle the three fingers I have left on my hand. "Looks like someone already beat you to it. Gonna have to find another way to threaten me, and it better be terrifying, because I don't scare very easily."

I walk forward, leaving the uncouth blonde in the dust behind me. She's worse than the walkers.

When I finally catch up with the rest of the guys, they're already getting into position for the first watch.

Brody and Bryce are set up by the fence together, elbowing each other back and forth. These guys are, like, thirty and they still act like three-year-olds…

"Hey," Brody snaps his fingers, earning my attention, "You're with Gareth. He's down that way walking along the fence somewhere." He points along the side of the fence and then immediately goes back to nudging back and forth with his brother.

I walk slowly along the chain link fence, hoping to never catch up with Gareth. The more time I'm without him, the better.

When I finally reach the end of the fence, I see Gareth sitting in a lawn chair and scoping the outside for anything or anyone that just might run by. He looks up from his watching and smiles. "Hey."

"Hi," I say back quietly.

"You need a gun," he says. "Take this." He hands me a Colt Python.

_I could kill him. I could just shoot him right in the face. Boom, bitch! _

"Are you okay?" Gareth stands up and offers me his seat.

I sit down in the chair and lean back. "I'm fine."

"What did you do when you first saw one of the dead things out there?"

"Huh?" I cock a brow at the man standing next to me.

He looks beyond the fence, where a single walker saunters by itself along the line of trees across from us. "You know, like, what did you do? Where were you and how did you handle it?"

Jesus… here we go with that bullshit. I _loathe _talking about that day. All it was supposed to be was a simple hunting trip in the mountains with dad, Jess, Grandpa Will, and Buck. Things happened… that's it.

I'll just tell him so he doesn't ask any more fucking questions. "I handled it like any other twelve-year-old girl did; I flipped the fuck out and cried. I was with my dad and grandpa for a little while, then I was with my dad and my uncle and a bunch of other people that just didn't make it. Where were you?"

"I was with my family. We were at home and the first one to go was my dad, then my mom. My brother, Caleb, and sister, Hanna, were with me for a while and we all found this place together and built it up," he says.

He continues talking, but I don't bother listening to him; it's not like it's important or anything. I find myself staring off into the distance at the little bit of sun that's left. A boy with brown hair, and some serious bed head, runs towards us, holding onto a pistol.

"Gareth, who's that?" I ask, pointing at the mystery boy running along the fence.

Gareth looks down the fence and laughs. "That would be the infamous Zach. You're late," he calls out to the winded boy, who's just feet away from us.

"Sorry, man," Zach breathes. "I was just… looking for my sister." He looks up and wipes the sweat from his brow. He's really attractive, even though he's a sweaty mess. Hold up. I didn't say he was attractive. Darby Dixon doesn't get attracted to people, because that's how you get killed.

"Uh, Kendra? She should be with Cooper. I think they went back there." Gareth points behind us and vaguely nods at Zach for a second before going back to looking past the fence.

Of course Kendra the oppressor is his sister… that keeps me and him from being friends. Unless I kill her… which I will _**not **_do… unless she tries to kill me first, then I'm obligated.

Zach shares a glance with both of us before running off once again.

I look at Gareth once again. "How old is he?"

"Nineteen, I think."

_Only two years older…_

"How long's he been here?" I ask, twisting around in my seat to see if I could catch another glimpse of the boy that came and went too quickly.

"Him and Kendra came here a year ago, I think." I twist back around to see Gareth staring down at me with inquisitive eyes. "You know you'd think you had a crush on a guy you just met…"

I sink back into my chair and frown. I forgot, I'm supposed to be "interested in" Gareth. It's not like he would find out though, right? He's too busy with cooking up weird meet and locking people up in train cars; but, wait, I'm getting wrapped up in my thoughts again. I _can't _be attracted to someone for real, because it'll get me killed.

"I don't have a crush on him," I state directly. "I was just curious about who he was. I have to get to know people because I live here too, right?"

Gareth nods and backs away from the fence. "Yeah, you live here, too."

I looks down at the Colt Python in my lap. He must trust me a lot more than I think.

"Gareth?" I look up from the gun. "When do you think my group can come out of the car?"

He inhales sharply and draws his lips into a flat line. "Oh, Darby… I don't know. They're dangerous."

"What do you mean they're dangerous?" I snap back at him. "You guys stuck _us _into the train car. I think you guys are more dangerous than us. Plus, you kinda posed a threat first by showing off Glenn's watch. Why did you even put the first group of us in there anyway?"

"Because, we had to. The guy with the mullet started ranting about anatomy and told everyone that the meat that comes from our grill is human." Gareth laughs and shakes his head. "Can you believe that?"

I blink. That meat did look weird…

"Where does that meat come from, exactly?"

"Birds, wolves, deer, squirrel; whatever we can find out there."

I shrug. Maybe that's animal meat, but I'm still gonna have my fallacies.

Gareth takes a seat on the ground next to me; he's probably getting tired of standing around for so long. "I'll see what I can do about your group. I just don't know how they'd react to the idea. I mean, come on, ring leader's probably plotting on how he's gonna kill all of us every single day that he sits in there; and who knows what _your_ _dad_ thinks. But, like I said, I'll see what I can do. I'm serious."

Damn… that was easy. This plan is halfway over. Nice job, Darby.


End file.
